


Up and Downs

by Blackcollar



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clarke & Aden, Clarke is stronger than you thought, Clarke’s POV... mostly, Clexa Endgame, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff, Humor, Hurts So Good, I hate Titus, Political Alliances, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Couple, Recovery, Surgery, Violence, War, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 26,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18608791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackcollar/pseuds/Blackcollar
Summary: A little late to the game, but an alternative of the events that could have happened if Clarke had saved Lexa on that dark night. Cannon until season 3 ep 7. The writers had a lot to work with.“Nope,” I huffed, “There is no way I’m letting you do that. You are not dying on me”Clarke Griffin uses the extent of her medical abilities to save the Commander. Surprising, it pretty simple to operate on the bullet wound with the available materials at the time. As Lexa is healing, Clarke goes out and fixes everything that was Pike and the Arkers. Her influence on both the Grounders and Skai people proves to be more than enough to stop the anarchy. As she singlehandedly reverts the warring clans crisis as Wanheda, Clarke finally loses her moral shell as the effects of politics surround her. She will do anything to protect the one she loves and the world she lives in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've made this chapter as medically accurate as possible, meaning, spending hours on google and webmd. The lack of antibiotics and sterility is an BIG issue but, I believe that the qualities of Nightblood would have diminished the issue of infection. Please leave Kudos if you enjoyed this story.

“Nope,” I huffed, “There is no way I’m letting you do that. You are not dying on me.”Both of my hands pushed the wound on Lexa’s upper abdomen; black ichor spewing out between my fingers like a waterfall. Each second was another step closer to losing Lexa, and I was quite aware of the slim chances I had of saving her. Every single moment of my life had been shadowed by death, the cullings on the Ark even the morid dangers of freedom on the ground. I was so familiar to it, to death and my mind told of a lost cause. In spite of everything, all I could possibly think was, ‘No way, I will save her.” The words repeated like a broken record, consuming thought and reason. As if, monsters eating logic and presence ravaged my tinkerbox. Setting everything on fire. I could feel the flames rushing in my veins and my natural hotheadedness exploding. For a brief second I diverted attention to Titus, who carried a grave face and was silent before an unrolled collection of medical equipment. He slide a finger down his forehead, marking his face with a black stripe of Lexa’s blood. He had the face of a man who had given up hope, and that enraged me. “No way, I will save her.” A strangled breath of air exhaled from the body underneath me and I realized that I needed to operate. Now.

“You,” I nearly screamed, barely a grip on my flaring temper, “gets rags and hot water to sterilize those tools!” my fingers jabbed at the roll. Delivering a glare they melted metal at the offender. Blood from the wound continued to drip rapidly, forming a small river on furs beneath. I tore fabric from my shirt and pressed the cloth on the bleeding mess, hoping the material absorbed the liquid better. “She needs a transfusion!” Too much blood left her body too quickly. But right now, there was neither time or equipment to do so. It was in these moments I found adrenaline most effective. Surprisingly it wasn’t being shot at or running away from a bloodthirsty monsters that made my core roar. When faced with hard situations and a ticking time bomb, my mind throttled the rest of my body, always analyzing the benefits of each situation. Like the time in the mountain, when I had decided to slaughter 300 innocent people, women, men and children for 42 of my dearest friends. The decision was impossible but I had made it with the dreaded chemical in my blood.

“Finding the right type of blood for a transfusion is very important,” Abby pointed at the board, “A, AB, B, O, are the main types” The bright eyed students breathe every word. “The Rh protein determines whether the blood type is positive or negative...if all fails, find something that looks similar and use that.” a student had snickered.” Something that looks similar! It was like a lightbulb had ignited inside my head as the black tar continued to fall without an intent of stopping. I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Get the Natblidas!!!” A hunking thumph sounded outside the door followed by rapid cursing and the scrambling of feet. The guards outside seemed all unaware of what had occurred inside. I turned toward Lexa, both hands still firmly pressed against the bulletwound. My body worked instinctively, my brain thinking of only of how I was to save Lexa’s life.“The bullet punctured the liver,” I analyzed, “considering that you haven’t lost consciousness from blood lost, no major artery was damaged.” Lexa managed a strained smile, but I barely recognized it in my unrelenting cannonade. Titus bounded in the room, a vat on steaming water in his right hand and mountains of towels in his left. He coupled some fabrics and shoved them in my awaiting hands. Without, instruction, he began quickly sterilizing the scalpels before I wordlessly thrusted a plastic tube with connecting needles in his hands. My impassiveness even surprised myself as I readily for a transfusion. The Nightbloods bursted into the room one by one, each of Lexa’s successors rushing to Lexa’s side. Only a boy, Aden ran toward me, offering his arm. He nodded in comprehension, I followed by effortlessly sticking a needle into his vein. We both watched as the black blood rose from Aden, through the tube and into Lexa; buying her some more precious seconds. The rest of the children huddled around in a frenzied horde as I instructed Aden to switch the needle every 3 minutes. Then, the pill. The pill I’ve taken from the mountain’s medical facilities to end my own life. The pill that a few days ago had been my ticket out from the countless numbers of faces, men women and children that haunted me every night. How ironic it was that now it was means to save someone’s life. Two children were trusted with adding pressure to the wound as I flicked off the top of the pill with scalpel and leveled the tiniest amount with the very tip of the blade. The contents were poured and diluted in a syringe which I expertly slid in her carotid artery, steadily pushing the lever down. Immediately afterward, Lexa’s eyes flickered shut. I refusing to let her sunken, pale face to be the last I will ever see of her. My body moved on its own, sliding a scalpel in horizontal line to open up the top layer of skin. A silent gasp stilled the room as each person held their breath. Ten pairs of eyes followed the blade as it trailed a small trickle of blood that rolled from the cut. “Hot knife.” I stated.  
Aden snatched the piece of metal from the lamp, carefully handing it over to me, wrapped with a leather strip. Once in my hand, the scading blade made good work cauterizing the severed veins. The other children had taken a que to the situation and gathered the numbreous candles in the room and hovered them above my table of operation. It was a low caliber bullet, it shouldn’t be embedded too far. I thought as my heart beated in my ears, but my hands were steady as I poured everything to locating the bullet. I pray it wasn’t a hollow point, Everything was so black, the candle was barely penetrating the opaque darkness. Shit, her pulse is decreasing, gallons blood were still pouring out rapidly from the wound and the bullet nowhere to be found. “More blood!” I screamed, suddenly more aware of the eyes that looked at me in hope when all I could give them was desperation. Aden grasped my arm, smothering the unruly nerves that were jumping out of my body.

“You can do it.” He declared, giving a look of utter confidence. For a fraction of a second, I stared at him, then frantically returned to Lexa. This beautiful woman is going to die of old age not of because an apathetic bastard. My fingernails dug into my palm and I gritted my teeth.

“Yes,” I concluded, “I can do it.”

I didn’t need to remove the bullet. The liver could regenerate, it would take too long to pick out each and every piece. There was just not enough time.“Large scalpel,” I demanded, a child immediately placing one in my palm and I delivered a stroke of finality at the muilitated organ in from of me. The small hand of Aden on my back gave me strength to continue.

“Clamps” 

The utensil was attracted to my hand like a magnet as I placed the frontal lobe of the liver onto the furs besides me. It was a bloody and black jello sinking into the material.

“Hot knife”

Soon enough the damaged and bleeding sections were seared. The entire room smelling like burning flesh. Some kids gagged but, most stayed stoic, stony faced and facing for the worst. It wasn’t before I finally heaved a sigh that declared there was no more internal bleeding, that the foreboding dread in the room dwindled. I gave the boy next to me wide smile, the confident little midget that stopped me from going insane. The last step was to stitch up the cut, I used some entrails that one of the fisas provided. When I was ultimately satisfied with the 36 neat rows of stitches, I just deflated. Nearly 4 hours of intense surgery, hunched over a body, without antibiotics or adequate tools. All the Natblidas seemed drained; not just of blood. My body felt like a balloon finally exhausted of air; the possibility of flopping onto the floor seemed like certainty. Damn it, leaden limbs still clutching the bloody scalpel as if it were a life line. The anger I had originally, was gone, but I had not forgotten, not forgotten through the blood and gore, of who started this. A fierce guttural growl erupted from my lips as I tried to rekindle the fire that hated Titus. That hated him because he had tried to kill me. That he almost killed Lexa!  
Using the last reserves of power in my being, I surrendered to insanity, letting it take root and corrupt me inside out. The last thing I remembered was the muscles in my legs leaping forward towards the cowering man in the corner. Teeth bared and the scalpel intertwined between my forefingers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember to comment and kudos. Tell me if I should continue with this

The afternoon heat radiated my face as if the sun decided to wake me up after what seem like not enough sleep. I supposed it could have been the heightened senses on the ground, but it felt like someone had bathed me in a pool of Monty’s Moonshine. My head felt as if a wooden board had been smashed on it and my throat, dry as a dessert. I had ubsturbly clean skin, the days old grime that I had become accustomed to, all gone. The only marks on me were the purple, green bruises decorating my knuckles and the red, angry welts running over each finger. It was like I had beaten someone to death and then punched a wall afterword. They hurt like hell as I flexed my hand, and I realized that holding anything would be somewhat painful. A couple seconds passed as my dazed self squinted through the glare of the sun to gauge my surroundings. Somehow, when I tried to remember what had happened last night, I drew blank. She was recovering right? Somehow, my memory has limited to before I finished Lexa’s surgery. Everything afterword was hazy, like an impenetrable fog had draped over it. Whatever. That’s not important, I threw the covers aside and jumped on two feet, Lexa needs me right now. 

My legs hurt more than my hands. Perhaps I kicked more than punched I thought. Nevertheless, I limped my way to Heda’s Quarters. The room I slept in was only two doorways from the Commander’s and it was easily disguisable with the hoards of noblemen, waiting and standing their ground like aggressive kittens in front of the large wooden doors. A large squad of native guards and fisas prevented them from entering, everyone trying desperately to keep the peace. Once they noticed me inch in their direction, both parties eyed me curiously but with clear glints of fear, some ducking their heads to avoid eye contact. They all parted out of my way, like Moses and the Sea as I headed for the double doors leading into the bedroom. Rough, ferocious men and women that I’ve seen whilst in The Commander’s Court when serving as the Skaikru ambassador; none of them could meet my gaze, each cowering and lowering their heads. Strangely, all of them, whether guard or clan leader, wore clothes clearly washed. No longer were there drapes of animal skin or worn protective armor, but simple linens. Many questions came to mind, Why is everyone so clean? What exactly happened to me? The thought floated for a bit before I pushed it to a corner of my mind; nothing mattered until I could see Lexa, she was the first priority. I took a deep breath and flung the doors open, charging in; ready to criticize every person taking care of their Heda, who was my beloved companion and friend. Maybe even something more, which is something I needed to decide after this shitstorm ended. Indeed, a small selection of fisas tended to Lexa’s needs, the room and people, again incredibly clean. Pristine furniture and blinding white curtains that literally caused my head to reject the rest of my body, decorated the relatively empty room. Once the fisas saw me, they expertly dodged my warpath. My mood was crap, I just had woken with pounding headache and enough of a memory loss, it could be amnesia. But once I saw those piercing green eyes, it was like a ice on a burn. It took all I could manage not to rush over and squeeze her in a hug and tell her how much I love her. I drew in a stifling breath and matched Lexa’s eyes. You could hear a pin drop between us. The fisas quickly gathered up their equipment, taking the que that they were not wanted.

My mouth felt drier than ever before, I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. How much her smile lit up the world at times. And hot damn those cheekbones. The words could not come out, but my legs took two steps forward. The scraping of my boots the only sound for a long while. 

“Clarke,” Lexa rasped, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Come here.”

I slowly moved to her side, feeling slightly ashamed, Shake out of it woman, my thoughts bereraded, you saved her. But somehow, it was my fault the bullet hit her. Why, nearly all of her ambassadors questioned her leadership. Her people-disappointed. Nevertheless, I sat my butt next to her and wrapped my hand over her outstretched palm. 

“You’re alive.”

She blinked twice and opened her mouth to speak, “Yes, Klarke.” her eyes carried mirth, but her sockets were sunken and purple. “I suppose it is not yet my time, Klarke,” she said quietly, meeky squeezing my hand.

“You big idiot.”

The corners of Lexa’s mouth turning upward into one of her iconic half smiles. She blinked carefully and her fingers squeezed tighter at my palm. “I don’t believe that getting shot with one of your Skaikru weapons is my fault, Klarke.”

“Yeah. It was my fault,” I muttered; unconsciously shuffling my feet. “It was because of me,” I said as I eyed the hand that rested on her wound, “ that you got hurt.”

“Clarke.”

My shoulders squared and I yanked my hand out of Lexa’s grip.

Stuttering, I inched backward, “We can’t keep doing this.” the horrible words dragged out slowly and painfully. “We, have to stop,” our eyes met and my heart hitched, needing another breath to continue. “You’re the Commander of the 12 clans, and the Skaikru just killed 200 of your warriors.”

Being the classic Lexa, she stoically retorted “That does not matter to me.”

“Lexa..”

“No.”  
It was like a brick was shoved down my throat again; I couldn’t speak, she appeared so determined. So regal and calm.“Don’t leave me Clarke.” Lexa stated, her voice emotionless but her eyes were shiny. The fringes of her mask had crinkled under my declaration. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered as my hands clutched q, “again.”  
I drew my head upward so that the imaginary tears wouldn’t fall down my face. 

“Sorry.” And then breaking my eyes away from her and leaving her to her life. 

I dashed out of Lexa’s room, feeling her glare on my back as the guilt ate at me. Deep down, I loved her, every little smile and her dedication to her people. But Lexa belonged to her Coalition and my people need me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chap Sum; Clarke threw a fit; children are children, no matter what.
> 
> Please comment your thoughts on the progression of this story, my first ever. Also, let me know on what the update schedule should be. I have a couple chapters pre-written and I thinking a twice a week thing

The crowd outside Lexa’s Quarters only grew, now maids and servants stood outside with curious faces. Ten of adoring eyes trailed my every movement. Only making me more uncomfortable than I already was. Speculating faces was not something I had experienced ever since getting the title of Wanheda; and murdering hundreds of innocents did not deserve respect. Nevertheless, I stomped past them, upper lip stiff and my face, one off of Lexa’s book. I was barely down the hallway before I spotted the Natblidas bounding toward me like a pack of wolves. Aden headed the squadron, holding a wooden sword in my direction and yelled, 

“Wanheda, Kikheda!!” 

The children behind him began shouting with Aden. And soon the people behind me began chanting as well. Wanheda was a tile I knew but Kikheda? My head started to throb as the distance between the parading party and the pack of kids closed. I was starting to resemble a deer in headlights and did not like it.

“Aden!”

The whole building was silenced as I grabbed the boy’s arm and dragged him into my room, slamming the door behind us. 

“What in the world are you doing!” I yelled, immediately straddling my forehead as instant pain ripped through with the words. It didn’t only feel like a terrible hangover but also a concussion. “Damn it,”I cursed under my breath, “ What the hell happened last night?” 

He stared at me with this blue eyes, wide and unflinching. From afar they almost looked like Lexa’s but up close they comparable my own. Aden was wary to speak; adjusting his grip on the wooden handle of his sword as he watched me clutch my head.

Finally, he piped up, “You don’t remember anything,” he said cautiously.

“No,” I grunted, “Now tell me why do I look worse than after I fought that pauna.”

His lips pressed together, and he crossed his arms,“Nothing?”

“Clean as a slate after the operation.”

“Ok.” Aden simply concluded, and then quickly turned around. His hands were nearly on the door, before I yanked him back by his collar.

“Just...ok? No explanation?” 

“Well,” He turned around and made himself comfortable on the bed, patting the spot besides him. I scotted next to the boy, so utterly curious to find out what happened that I completely forgot that our roles were reversed. “After you fixed up Lexa, you sorta like... snapped,” Aden made a show gesturing with his hands, “there was no light in your eyes and…” he paused, then continuing in a deep voice, “and you looked as if you could kill.”

“Well, did I?”

Aden gave me a confused look, and I continued, “Did I kill someone?” 

His mouth opened into a little ‘o’ as he realized, “No.”

“So what did I do?”

“You tried to stab Titus with the… little knife,” he said, watching me for input.

“Scalpel.” I groaned, the suspense was legitimately killing me, “Did I stab someone important?!” I nearly shout.

Aden held up a finger, “Hold on, let me finish. You tried, I kicked it out of your hands before you could do anything regrettable.”

“Ok.”

“You didn’t seem to mind, and you just grabbed the fotowon’s collar and knocked the skrish out of him.” He threw a punches to demonstrate. “Boom, boom!” making sound effects to his story.

I groaned again, there’s always something wrong when a future grounder leader is acting like an over- enthusiastic child. 

“What happened next?” I pressed, “that doesn’t explain my headache.” 

“Um, so you dragged the branwoda to the council room with all the ambassadors and leaders present.”

I covered my hands over my head again, this time not because of pain. This is looking… bad. 

“You threw him on the floor like a sack of potatoes and you commanded for something called ‘acholcal’” he pronounced the word slowly and deliberately, making my face grow even redder. “ Nobody knew what it was and then you just grabbed someone’s firawoda skin from the nearest table.” 

Oh no

“You robbed three more leaders of their firawoda and drank like you’ve never seen it before.” He smirked.

“Please don’t tell me I got drunk in front of people who wish me dead?” 

Aden just smiled, “Even worst, you demanded that whoever had an issue with you fight or else they could kiss your ‘ass’. 

“Your behind,” I clarified, as my head sunk further into my arms.

“And then you called out the Sandkru Ambassor and said that you always thought his nose looked like a rat’s ass, sorry, behind.”

At this point, the weight of the events crushed on me, my reputation probably put me on the kill lists of various leaders, but I regretfully pushed onward, “What happened next?” I asked, mourning the death of the Coalition, “Please don’t tell me I went any further….”

“You punched him in the face.”

“Oh.”

“And then you kicked Trisengkru leader in the…” he gestured beneath the waist, “the precious parts of a man and yelled at him for being a ‘dumb shit’ and threw the remaining of your firawoda at him. Three guards tried to restrain you but you flung your fist at the first man’s jaws and he flopped down with his eyes rolled into the back of the head. You have to teach me that trick later.”

“The benefits of being a doctor and some liquid courage.”

Aden eyed me with admiration and his smile was so wide, it looked painful. “You dealt with the last two guards by throwing a skin of firawoda and then a candle. You won’t believe what happened.” He said, eyes wide with amusement.

I rolled my eyes in frustration, I really did spend too much time with Raven. “They light up.” I stated blandly like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Yes!” he gasped, “The fire bursted on their clothes and they were like pigs roasting on a stick.” Aden laughed, imitating the looks on their faces as both warriors ran out screaming ‘water’ on the top of their lungs. “You had the attention of every person in the room...,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the positivity in the comment section. I will add more spaces in my work because of the advice of a reader, thank you so much for letting me know. Enjoyed the story? Leave kudos. Subscribe? I don't know.
> 
> To clarify, I'm assuming that "nightblood" is cannon engineered to bacteria resistant since it's radiation resistant. Obviously, medically speaking, invasive postoperative recovery is nearly impossible without adequate sanitation and antibiotics but plot armor and black blood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter guys. This is a third point of view continuation to the last scene

“That man is a son of a b***h.” Clarke declared, pointing an accusing finger at Titus. She wandered to the Commander’s throne and smoothly slide into the seat. It was comforting as it smelled like Lexa but mostly because it made the world stop spinning. The encourage gasped in shock with the Trisengkru still on the floor whimpering.

“You!” A man exasped, “You!

“Yeah?”Clarke retorted, grinning ear to ear, “do you have an issue with me?” 

The man silently found the way back to his seat, head lowered shamefully. Clarke took the gun that hung on her belt. Stroking the barrel exacting like how Lexa normally would with her favorite knife. 

“ This afternoon, this son of a b***h tried to kill me with this,” she held the gun up as if a presentation, “but he could aim for his life!” Clarke laughed. Titius still sprawling on the concrete, sporting his black eyes and broken ribs.

“Enough!” A fox-like man yelled. “I will not take more of your mockery!” He puffed up his chest like a chicken in a cockfight and raised his right hand at Clarke, jabbing a pointed finger. “I challenge you! Wanheda! For your power!” 

“Oh, the new Azgeda Ambassador?” Clarke said, voice low and threatening, dripping with malicious intent. “Really?” Clarke lifted herself from the chair and tucked the gun under her belt again. “You understand the last Azgeda Ambassador that challenged authority ended up a pile of blood on the floor of the Polis Town Square.” she yawned, seemingly uninterested. 

“How dare you!” 

Clarke pulled out her dagger from her time at the landing ship. The piece of metal was barely five inches long and was a piece of trash compared to the gleaming, polished blades of the warriors. But it was enough because, the Azgeda Ambassador spat at her feet and drew his own dagger. That of which was a good 4 inches longer and way more sturdier. 

He growled and lunged at Wanheda with a deep anger. Clarke easily side stepped dodging his strike and yawned again.“Did we start the fight yet?” 

The Ambassador yet out a pitched sound reserved for the battle field and rushed towards Clarke with a fury of strokes from his blade. The knife gazed her left cheek as she grabbed the arm of the attacking man, immediately slicing the tendons and brachial arteries at once. She had the precision of a surgeon and the calm, relaxed posture of someone had fought wars. The entire room stood in shock as his right arm flopped to his waist, blood leaving the body in buckets

“You’ll bleed out in the next 45 seconds.” Clarke chuckled, “ shoot, thought I could have more fun.”

The Ambassador gave a final desperate strike transferring the blade to his left arm. Clarke simply delivered a fist to his face and drew hot coals from the fire bed nearby and splattered them on his open wound.  
His screams rippled through the entire room.  
“You’ll never regain full use of that arm,” Wanheda said stoically. “Let that be a lesson taught to all who challenge Wanheda.”

She returned to the Commander’s Throne, still feeling a little ditzy from the liquor and adrenaline, sitting down with difficulty. Finally, clearing her throat Clarke began her clearly drunk speech, starting with, “Let's go back to the son of a bitch.” Somehow, so utterly calm and giddy at the same time.

 

“You also made everyone in the tower wash and told them to wear clean clothes. Saying something on the lines of ‘preventing infection’.”Aden said, “Then you taught the fisas how to treat Heda in the Skaikru way and collapsed in a random room.” He said ending with a finality, finishing the story with gusto.

I palmed my forehead lightly, feeling already too wearily for travel. The effects of last night had not disappeared and the pain was starting to return. In a few hours, I’ll head to hell and back, but I deserved a full night’s sleep. Not all things revolved about me I’ll apologize to Lexa and the ambassadors later. Right now, sleep. As I shooed Aden away, I reclaimed the bed as mine by spreading out on the furs and deflating; letting the tendrils of sleep grip me under.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long dry spell, I wrote plot and I was caught up with life.  
> Clexa scene coming soon. I needed to establish this first.

I slept till night, waking up from a nightmare with a sharp jerk to my body and with a disgusting taste in my mouth. Though I fell asleep to thoughts of returning to Arcadia and fixing the problem, I dreamt of the death of Lexa in Polis. If left Lexa to die, everything with the Grounders would be for naught, that was the only reason. I unconsciously bit my lip at that thought; even deep down, I was guilty for trying to believe it. Everything on me was slimy from sweat and my hair clung to my forehead in clumps. From the candlelight, I looked like a moist piece of wax wrapped tightly with a fibrous rag. 

For the first time in a long while, I felt weak; in my clinging clothes and small frame. Things never work out as one wanted them to, and with the experience of the Mountain, that statement had never been truer. The feeling of weakness disgusted me, I hated how useless it made me feel. Running from the problem was a coward’s motto, not mine. I dumped the covers aside as I jumped to my feet, savoring the position of being upright and forthcoming, even though the feelings of uselessness remained. 

The headache had disappeared after resting; sadly a metaphorical hammer had started to pound my head. Every day of life on Earth felt as if a neverending nightmare. Sometimes, it was regrettably worse when there were happy moments because those happy moments were always taken away so fast, that they seem, to have never existed. I groaned in frustration as I tipped backward and smacked against the bed, before quickly sitting up and listening to blood thump in my ears. My fingers steepled together as I threw scenarios around in my head. Considering the dangerously volatile situation in Polis, leaving for Arcadia right now was like sentencing Lexa to be assassinated in her bed. Yet, not going, meant watching the entirety of Arcadia die a slow War of Attrition. I was grappling for a possible course of action when I heard the door open and Aden slide next to me. He grunted slightly as he ran into my side, but he recovered and leaned forward with his hands on his knees.

The night air was still and humid; hanging so heavily in the tower that everyone felt the tension. Aden... he was most likely scared. He didn’t show it, but, if Lexa did die that night, everything would have soured for the worse. Even such a strong boy like him would not have survived against the grain of the Coalition. I made eye contact with the Aden, turning my head slightly to meet his gaze, “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer immediately, letting the question drop to the floor, while continuing to look deeply into my eyes. His hands though meekly slipped into my grip. From afar, the picture would have looked ironic, Wanheda and the future of the Coalition, sitting side by side; weak and tired. Finally, his mouth formed the following words, “I just wonder, how you... and Heda could possibly do this.” His shoulders slumped while he sighed, “ I couldn’t possibly… do… anything that night... I didn’t do anything Heda taught me.’’ 

Aden wasn’t much younger than me when I started managing the 100. Leadership is not for a child, I learned that lesson that hard way. No matter what the Grounders thought about the Natblidas, they were not yet leaders, they were not yet capable, they were children in the simplest. I could tell him that, but in truth, I too, was a child, and even though I hate the idea of having thousands of lives tied to my decisions, it was the undeniable reality. Truth in words meant nothing without action.

Instead, I said, “This world is way more complex than what the flamekeepers ever taught you.” I put my palm on his chest.“You have to conquer what you have in here,” I said as I moved my fingers to his sandy blonde hair, “and what you have in here.” 

Then, I stood up with a sense of finality, “As you know, I will have to leave for Arcadia soon, but I’m not feeling so good about leaving you guys here alone.” I said, somehow, the image of Lexa and Aden popped into my head with those words. “ Ontari will kill you and Lexa to be Commander if I leave.”

“You don’t have to go,” he said. 

If only it were that easy, “If I didn’t go, my people would die.”

Aden sulked further, his body curling into a pitiful ball as he realized my dilemma. With Lexa out of commission and none of the Natblidas commanding enough of a presence, I was the pin that prevented Ontari from rising up and the ambassadors from stealing a piece of Polis. My recent demonstration of power in the throne room was the only reason they still respected me enough, not to kill me. The ambassadors… I still had their respect. 

My mind turned to the methods of the organization on the early days of the Ark. From a young age, Ark children were taught that the separate Ark stations worked together with mutual respect. Later, I realized as I got older, the stations hated each other in the beginning; separate identities, cultures, and religions clashed together like oil and water. Yet, they were all willing to cooperating as the threat to humanity impeded closer. People like to believe they found a commonality and trusted each other, but in fact, all the records say the waters were treacherous and each leader was a shark. They liked power too much to give it up easily. I started to smile with the plan fleshing out in my head, Aden furrowed his brow and looked at me in utter confusion. Nevertheless, I told him, “Aden, I have a plan.”


	6. Chapter 6 (Long Awaited)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa get some "good" alone time. Cuteness insues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all wanted this. Enjoy. Comment, kudos, like, subscribe, whatever. Take this chapter as apologies for not posting as frequently as I should. Tell me your thoughts, this is the first of my attempts in trying to write something intimate and I'd like some advice, constructive criticism appreciated.

“What did you do to the Ambassadors?”

I carried into Lexa’s Quarters, bundles of clean linen. Her bandages needed to be changed and I had demanded the fisas allow me the chance to see her before I go. There weren’t any major concerns that anchored me to Polis, not after last night. Lexa was safe in her bed, hopefully for a stretch of time. 

The linen was set down at the foot of her bed before I meekly answered, “Something.”  
The answer was vague, but the truth would anger her. It’s vastly better if she discovered it by herself. My expression must had soured as luckily, Lexa noticed my reluctance and dropped the line of questioning.

I set down a jar of salve and pleaded for Lexa to pull up her shirt. Our relationship had been on ice and the guilt practically dripped off me. She raised an eyebrow but did not refuse, feebly tucking her hands under the fabric and revealing a creamy expanse of tan skin. My eyes darted skyward at first reaction, cheeks growing dangerously hot as the shirt pulled higher and higher. I willed myself to look up, passed her toned stomach, resting the beady monsters on the gnarly purple scar. It was scabbing over nicely; angry violet bruises still flowered around where the bullet punched through but, the progress was unbelievable for three days post op. Most people died with this sort of injury, even those who survived the initial gunshot were bedridden for months. At this rate, she’d be up and running by the end of next week. 

“Are you just going to stare,” Lexa quipped. 

She grunted as I gently felt the flesh around the stitches; pressing softly into the firming muscle. I could hear her pant softly as I palmed some salve onto the wound and loosely wrapped bandages about her abdomen. The entire time, I could feel her eyes burn a hole in my chest, my subtle glances at he face left me yearning for more. Chewing frantically on my lip as I straightened up the bandage. Every time I looked at her face, she was bathed in sunlight and the colors of the sun rising bounced of her regal face in soft mute palettes. 

“Do you want me to sex you, do you want me to sex you right now?” I said jokingly before dropping to my haunches in front of her, “Because, I am definitely the type to do it with a recently postoperative patient.”

Lexa let out a muffled chuckle as our faces inched together; stopping only when our noses sparred and her warm breath mixed with mine. Our hands intertwined, resting gently on the covers, and I had to resist the urge to kiss her. She pressed her perfect teeth into plump, perfect lips, and with her so close, I could feel her heart beating in tangent with mine. The quick, allegro of an orchestral song played in the background as the beat of drums matched the rhythm of our breaths. I could see nothing but her deep-set eyes; eyes that bore into the deepest, darkest part of my soul. They were vibrant like spring saplings and her arched nose fell with a gentle slope like that of a geek goddess’. She was more beautiful than the legends of the old world. High, cheekbones and a sharp, knife-like jaw made her an angel. One that demanded my devotion. 

Things were moving so fast that a second later, I found myself perched over her, quite reminiscent of the last time I was in her bed. We stayed still in that position for a bit, just to let what had happened fully sink in. I came to see her, clean her bandage, maybe sneak in a soft apology under the pretense of loyalty to my people...something civil. Yet faith had coaxed me on this dangerous path. I didn’t know what think of it; undoubtedly, my brain was on fire, being on top of her and, lucid, was hard. I did not want to bed the injured. She was too perfect and too close for comfort. Then, in an almost challenging way, she turned her mouth to my ear, giving me her sultry look. She was eating me up, biting away at my resolve. I swear her hand was sneaky tugging at the top of my shirt. From her throat, it started with a wolf-like growl but it soon devolved into a pained, strangely raccoon-ish, yip. I could feel her physically heat up a couple degrees after she quickly shut her lips, realizing what had just happened.

Carefully, I slipped away from her grasp, cautiously managing over her torso until I put both feet onto the floor. The passionate fire had dwindled, and the mood had grown more playful than lustful. 

“Did you just try to growl in my ear,” I grinned, “but it hurt, so your voice rose by an octave?” 

Lexa looked me in the eye, her face set into a pinkish embarrassment and her lip quivering outward in the cutest way. “Yes,” she said. So meek and shamed in her own mind that she didn’t notice my teasing tone and widening smirk.

My eyebrows quirked upward, and I slipped my fingers about to cradle her head in my hands, “Did my little baby want to be cool?”

Her entire face furrowed at her new title and there was a visible pout in her adorable, little face. She did not like it one bit and before she could collect herself again, I leaned forward and pressed my lips on to her own. There was a little gasp of surprise as I pulled away, my hands still cradled around her face. I clung to her. She was warm and I wanted to be close. Desperate, I pulled her in for halfish cuddle, obnoxiously rubbing my face into her jaw. 

“Lexa, I swear,” I said, “the world be damned. I will come back after I deal with Pike.” 

We were solemn, the familiar silence settling in the air again. Yet, this time, it was different, we were not tense, we were waiting. 

“I will come back to you and I will make truth of the deaths of your people.” I promised, “I will be strong.” I kissed her again, this time on the forehead and with tears in my eyes, “please be believe in me.”  
“I will, Clarke.” She responded, placing her own arms around my body, “but please be safe.” Then, in light-hearted words, she whispered in my ear, “I yearn to fulfill what had been started today.” I could not help but smile at those words. Lexa slipped a knife from under her pillowcase and tucked it in my belt, it was her iconic dagger. The one with the tooth-like blade and the intricate wooden handle. Neither of us would let go of each other and only after calls for Wanheda did I leave her arms. As I left, stalking slowly out her door, I heard her say. “Be safe on your journeys.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... kids get in the way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comment, whatever. ; )

Aden wouldn’t leave me alone. He trailed me everywhere, like a clingy, ex-lover. After he managed to find me outside of Lexa’s room, his awkward, lanky frame was always a foot away. When I took a step, he took a step and it was very annoying. I tried to lose him in the tower but the little monster got to the entrance first and waited for me there. Then, at the stables, when I finally thought I shook him, he pulled up on a horse with a bag over his shoulder.

“I’m going with you,” he said.

I heaved instinctually, “What!” The horse underneath me pawed at the ground and snorted as if he was disapproving along with me. “No way, Aden,” I said, “It is dangerous even for me. What makes you think I’ll let you go?”

“Because it is dangerous,” he curtly responded, raising his chin in defiance, “The more reason for me to accompany you.” 

The horse snorted again, this time impatiently shuffling his legs about. “No,” I repeated clearly, “This is not a joke, Aden. Your life is not to be played with.”

His chin came to his chest and I saw his hands tighten around the lead, “I know the dangers, but,” he said before confidently raising his head, “I want to be useful to the Coalition, and helping you would be the best thing I could do.” 

People were gathering around and watching from afar at the adult and the child that squabbled on horses. We must have looked ridiculous and I squirmed at the ruckus we were making. Aden and Lexa had a great number in similar, both were passionate, stubborn mules. I gestured at him with my hand and reluctantly commanded my beast to move out of the stables. My body slumped in defeat as the guard pulled open the gate and both myself and Aden trotted out of the pasture. I could positively feel him radiate with joy. 

We raced down ill-worn paths, dirt trails that barely showed any signs of wear to get to Arcadia as fast as possible. From morning to late afternoon, we were riding south, only stopping once in a great span of time to rest. Aden had picked and called a spot off the road and we sat to eat. I, fixated on the glistening coats of sweat on the horses. They looked tired, but the stable hand promised me that the Commander’s racers would not buckle under pressure. Aden passed me a small loaf and a moderately bruised apple; I bet he didn’t consider the bumpy ride. 

“Wow,” I said, as my thumb penetrated the liquidated underbelly of the fruit. 

He shrugged and took the apple back to carefully cut it in half and munch at it. “Its still good,” he garbled, spitting a quarter of the contents in my face before handing me the other half

Even with all the nonsensical jargon Aden brought, I enjoyed having him with me. I did not enjoy the thought of falling to my death though, and taking a prized Nightblood from Polis was Lexa’s tower list worthy. The one where she kicks them of the tower. I shivered that the fear of explaining to her as I solemnly slipped at my apple. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed two sticks coincidentally crossed over each other the side of the road, speckled with glinting metal pieces. It came with a small chill to my spine, but I didn’t make much of it.


	8. Chapter 8 (Lexa’s POV um)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa’s POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I swear the plot will come and I will update more frequently. Just stay with me :) 
> 
> On another note, how does everyone fell about the Killing Eve Season 2 finale?The

Beka, everything I had planned was sent to the past commanders, the meticulous weeks of thinking and decisions were thrown into chaos; my straight sword bent in tens of places. I tensed when I thought about Clarke, she had either already left or is leaving for Arcadia, meeting appending death or torture from the Arcadian barbarians. And the blockade, how the hell was she supposed to get past thousands of armed warriors? I felt like throwing my arms up frustration, why did I let her go? I should go with her. For a moment, I forgot I was injured, I forgot the giant wound on my abdomen that made me helpless like a newborn babe. Then, like a punch in the chest, breathing was painful, I sucked multiple deep breaths to ease my panic. The image of a corpse popped in my head and stars blurred the edges of my vision. Desperate, apathetic tendrils gripped my sides, and the feeling of vulnerableness has very been so strong in my life, not even as a child, and it made me shudder. From the day of my Ascensio, the Flame had always made my mind sharp, yet for the first time, my body was not it’s a compliment. I willed my right hand to clench, staring at each finger contract and connect with the flesh of the palm. There was no way I could protect Clarke right now. Without thinking, I gripped the nearest thing from my hand, which was a water pot and hurled it at the door, immediately doubling over, grunting in pain and instantly regretting it. For the man who destroyed me, I swear a punishment worse than death. Titus, Titus, where is that branwoda?

I was generously propped up with a great selection of goose down pillow. Which I noticed were unbelievably white… and also everything else. The fisas and guards answered immediately when called, even when the command was an almost silent guttural growl. They were paying unbelievable attention to me, I assumed it was caused by their inability to respond to Titus, trying to make up for the shame of their failure. 

“Bring me Titus,” I muttered, carefully bracing myself on the bedding. “I need to kill him.” 

The guards silently exited and dragged back a sack of flesh and bones. Titus was lifted between two men, bruised and battered, bright purple fist imprints covering the entirety of his ragged body. A couple of his teeth were knocked out and both his eyes blackened. He drew uneven breaths and his arm was bent at an awkward angle.

“What in the hell happened to him?” I shouted. It was disturbing to see Titus beaten up that badly. The guards wouldn’t damage the man to an inch of his life nor would they be allowed to hurt him without my orders. My anger for Titus remained fiery but there were also underlying tones of pity. He looked as if in more pain than whatever I could have done to him. 

He lurched forward and vomited a pool of blood. “In Bekka’s name!” I said, “he looks as he wouldn’t be able to survive the night.”

A tense silence lingered until a tall guard, his voice slightly laced with fear piped up, “The Skaikru Ambassador, Wanheda, did that to him, Heda.”

My jaw dropped, “Clarke?” Clarke Griffin, my golden hair angel had struck down Titus, decimating a man a foot taller than herself? I stared at Titus with disbelief, running my eyes over his torn and broken body. The marks were only made with fists? “Clarke,” I repeated again, giving the guard a raised eyebrow on my otherwise stoic face.

He first hesitated to respond, but flourished under my pinning glaze. “Yes, Heda… She also…”

“What?”

“Punched he Sandkru commander in the face, knocked a guard unconscious, set two on fire..”

“Stop,” I demanded, swirling a finger at him, “Are you drunk, man?”

The surrounding guards stifled to hold on their laughter but the speaking guard responds grudgingly, “No Heda, I have sworn off firewoda forever last night.”  
I rubbed my chin, Clarke Griffin had a side to her that I never thought possible. A Commander’s spirit. With my free hand, I waved at the guard to continue, “I never liked the Sandkru Ambassador anyways.”

“Yes, Heda. Er, She dueled the Azgeda Ambassador.”

“Did She win? I said way too eagerly.

“She won the battle, Heda, she cut his arm.”

“Really?” I gasped in disbelief, a smile unconsciously gripping my cheeks. Nevertheless, I wrangled the expression of joy with a cough, covering my mouth with a fist. 

“Yes Heda.” 

I straightened under his words about Clarke, what a strong, powerful and smart girl. Whenever she crossed my thoughts, she’d be the subject of my infatuation. Her silken curls that glinted like gold under the sun, icy pool of blue; looking so gentle every time our eyes met. She was so beautiful, and now this side I’ve never met. The Warrior Clarke, oh how much I wanted to know her better. 

My chest hurt badly now and breathing was a difficulty as each breath drew pain. But thanks to Clarke, I was still alive. I gripped the blankets up and motioned for the fisa in the corner to adjust the pillows. There was strange rumbling from outside of my room, but after witnessing Titus’s condition, my body deflated; the anger had taken its toll, and I felt too tired to do much. Yet, just before I pulled under, my doors were yanked open, a dam bursted and tens of Ambassadors and their separate kru flooded in. Guards were desperately to stop the onslaught of people. They had linked their arms into a chain to prevent the mob from moving forward. 

“Heda,” they shouted, trying to earnestly trying to get my attention. “Did you hear what Wanheda do?!” they shouted.  
Some of the guards tried to shove back against the crowd, using sheer will to push them out of the room.  
My lips tightened into a thin line, “Huh,” I grunted as my teeth started to grate, what did Wanheda do? 

Before someone from the mob could answer, the guards and squadron of fisas banded together to force the crowd back and swiftly closed the doors when the way was finally clear. 

“WAIT,” I said, “Bring me one of the Ambassadors.” I pointed at the tall guard who told me of Clarke’s exploits. He bowed his head and turned toe as the rest of the guard/fisa brigade cracked open the doors to allow the man to reach his arm out and grab the small Delphi kru ambassador.

He screamed as he was suddenly pulled from his people, shouting obscenities at the random arm that yanked at the front of his shirt. “Ahhhhh!” he yelled as he found himself secluded from the rest of the mob and surrounded by Lexa’s loyal guard faction. Strangely, they have never behaved like this before, it was as if they were taught to control a flash mob. Before the Delphi man could regain his senses, I asked him sternly, “Tell me what Clarke did.”  



	9. Chapter 9?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Clarke did to the ambassadors. This scene was originally written in Clarke's perspective, but after shuffling the timeline around. Lexa is hearing it from an ambassador.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are hard ppl, so enjoy this awkward tensed scene where I lazily changed the pronouns and made this chapter into a very uncomfortably third person omnipotent. :)

Clarke commanded for all the ambassadors to gather at an emergency meeting in the throne room. Even though the night was mature, no one was asleep due to the current state of affairs in the city and the meeting only heightened the burden of the night. Many of the ambassadors still clearly remembered the last time a late night meeting was called; Clarke had the honor of receiving many dirty looks from various parts of the room. 

Unlike last time, she was sober but soon wished she wasn’t. As all the members occupied their seats and the guards closed the heavy doors of the throne room. Each person that sat down with eyes like daggers. Their expressions growled of retaliation; promising an unimaginable death for a single step out of line. The new Azgeda Ambassador was extra hateful tonight, she obviously caught wind of what happened her predecessor. In front of a room of, warriors, assassins, leaders triple her age, Clarke refused to let her confidence waver. She willed her hands, which were behind her waist, to stop shaking. The futile struggle to control her nerves gave her the sudden urge to cough, very loudly. Three sounding hacks verbrated outward, as Clarke dared anyone to challenge her. The room was silent, their eyes trailing her every movement as she rose from her Skaikru chair and slowly walked to Lexa’s wooden throne. When she reached the height of the platform, strange grunts arose from the far corners of the room, faces visibly soured. There was even a shout as she sat in the throne but the interrupter was quickly silenced and the room returned to a tense peace.

Before her command of the room diminished, she decided it was now or never. Clarke pushed her chest outward, squared her shoulders and without thinking, spoke,“ I, Wanheda, will be leaving soon, to deal with the problem...that is my people.” She let that statement linger for a bit, watching for the obvious signs of relief show on the faces of the ambassadors.“Your Heda is still recovering after the deeds of a traitorous bastard. As you all know, Titus is dealt with.” Clarke declared with finality. “Let that be a lesson to you all. Do not assume because the Commander is hurt, she is weak. She will recover and she will be stronger than ever. Fear her wrath, it will be great.” In her mind, Clarke knew that if left to their own devices, the Ambassadors would quickly consolidate power. Lexa would only be a notch on a belt. That angered her, Clarke’s body was unconsciously straddling the width of the chair as her calm expression stared down any face that dared to defy her.

“I understand, that Polis and therefore the Coalition, will be left without a leader for some duration of time.” Some ambassadors nodded to those words, they knew the situation, it was a miracle how Azgeda hasn’t already made a move.“So, I propose the formation of a council. For the formation of an equal power dynamic between all ambassadors.” she boomed, happy that no indignant ambassadors rose to scream foul, yet. “You all will be responsible for the city while I am gone.” Now, the leaders, in visible shock and carrying slack jaws, began to speak among themselves. In the audience, knives were being drawn from scabbards. The conversation came in hushed, dangerously low tones and the ever so casual death glare was tossed in Clarke’s direction ever so often. She realized this was not the same room as when she had originally entered, the hairs on her neck stood vertically and she had never felt a colder chill. 

The Louwoda Kliron ambassador from Shadow Valley, stood up with her right hand raised and asked, “Wouldn’t a Natblida lead us?” Her voice was grim and cold, and Clarke willed herself to be warm and firm. 

“That would be under normal circumstances, yes,” She said, gripping the arms of the throne and leaning forward, “But, I know, that child will be a regent and fought over for by you all.” Clarke’s voice was gravelly and deep and her behavior surprised even herself. “So, why not even the battlefield, so you all can have the power directly in your hands,” Clarke growled. “All decisions, will be made by the Council. Judged by a mere, majority, vote. Seven out of Twelve.” The room audibly stilled again, “All decisions, including the life or death of your fellow council members.” She drew out, causing all visible movement in the room to freeze. “That is all.” She stood up in one fluid motion and strode casually down the aisle, through the opened doors held by the guards. The doors were barely closed before a sharp dud vibrated through the wood and a gleaming tip penetrated the material.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chaps in a row? Unbelievable! Oh, I just forgot to post......... Clarke and Aden sneak into... somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written all the major scenes, but finding a smooth way to transition is so hard. Also, I've noticed that I have written like nothing in means of words compared to end chapters. No very happy about that.

Under the shadow of night and our backsides thoroughly sore, Aden and I, parked our horses west of the barricade camp and a distance from the last line of defenses. I knew very well that my notoriety would put me in a pinch if any grounder saw me. My blonde hair, short frame, and aggressive attitude was the most desirable and elusive bounty for the whole of three months. Even if I wore rags, leather, and smeared my face with dirt, there was no way I wasn’t getting recognized.

We stuck to hiding behind the brush and dodging passing patrols until we reached the big canvas tent. Some well-meaning guards back in the capitol had told me how things were situated; they said that the tent was where the Barricade Leader stayed. The leading man was one of Lexa’s generals, Jormun. From the information gathered in the Captial, I inferred that Jormun was a respectable warrior. There were stories that detailed his unwavering moral righteousness and his adheral to Jus Drem Jus Draum. Blood for blood was his world, and there nothing that prevented him from enforcing his law. 

My legs started cramping as I scouted the area, from our advantage point in the forest, the tent was surrounded by warriors. Most were sitting about, twiddling with weapons. Ever so often, a patrolling group would enter the perimeter and tag out a relevant number of inactive warriors and switch positions. The guarding of the camp was so secure that for the whole two hours we crouched in hiding, I could not find a single opening. 

I glanced at Aden and then back at myself, between us two pitifully framed humans and the onslaught of thick, muscled warriors ahead, I could not help but take a deep gulp for our safety. I prayed that just one patroling transition would go wrong; we could work with just thirty seconds with an empty camp. I dropped to my stomach and rested on my elbows as I squinted at the movement in the camp, my legs had unanimously decided to not support me anymore and buckled over. Hours passed as I laid in the dirt, the overall comfortability of my position striking zero some time ago. It grew cold and the grass and branches beneath me poked at my soft underbelly. The clothes on my back grew slimly from moisture as if my whole body was painted with a repulsive jelly. From afar, I finally notice some sort of commotion. A small figure was headed toward the tent, it was childlike, with thin limbs and a head of light blond hair. 

“Aden?” I whispered. When I didn’t receive a reply, I tried to reach for his small body next to me, all the while keeping my eyes anchored on the figure. My hands didn’t grab anything, and I turned to my side to find him, “Hey, did you see…” only to realize that the annoying little monster was gone. 

I immediately launched myself after him but my legs seized up and I fell down with a yelp. My face was now smeared with mud.  
“That little shit,” I muttered. I cradled my legs as the pain racked my body, tears beginning forming in the corners of my eyes. It was very much painful but it was also horrendously embarrassing. Seconds later, I hopped towards the camp one foot, huffing under my breath. “I’m going to kill him,” I said through gritted teeth and seized fists. The guards obviously noticed the ridiculous scene in front of them, the brat had spoiled the factor of surprise. They started drawing swords from scabbards though some lingered with their hands over hilts, confused whether they should consider me a threat. Terror and adrenaline ran through my veins with vigor. I drew Lexa’s knife from my belt in desperation, flashing it in their faces to perhaps encourage the withdraw of the pointy things. Luckily, they backed off in shock and I dashed into the tent after Aden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghh. Finals. They are legitmately draining my life.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting. There's a lot of it. Aden fights, Clarke fights, everyone fights. I should let you know, I intended to write a part in Trigedasleng, but it got very complicated because... it's a vastly undeveloped fictional language... and it was hard. Therefore, I wrote it in Spanish. Just took my Spanish finals, so this information is quite still in my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, Comment and subscribe for the next chapter

His collar was in my fist within the next two seconds and my first instinct was to drag him, his physical body, heels together, through the mud. Then I planned to lecture him, as one would lecture an insolent child. He was going to get an earful and if I ever got back to Polis, I was intent putting a lease on the kid and making him Lexa’s problem. I don’t think it crossed my mind for a whole minute that I really wasn’t the situation to think the sort of thing. But the threat crept back in and the relief I enjoyed for the shortest of moments was replaced with a full frontal of The Barricade’s elite personnel. 

 

I latched on to Aden’s arm, promising myself that I wouldn’t pull a horror movie on him. The effects of which I shove him down and run away, never come back ever again. I heard somewhere that you don’t have to run fast, just faster than the next guy. Aden, he seemed like something a bear would eat, I really don’t like him. Still, I haven’t felt this intimidated since the Council meeting and the death and damnation there carved up my soul.

 

The thick man who sat in the middle of the half circle gave outright gorilla vibes. He was shrouded in a blanket of body hair that matched his knotted brown beard. Thick, veiny arms straddled the mounts of the chair and his huge torso rested impatiently against the backboard. He growled in frustration, “How in the Bekka’s name did a boy and…Wanheda get here.” The way he said my title made me wince, it was so harsh and cruel that my hands instinctively balled up.

 

I couldn’t control him, the little monster weaseled out of my grip and leaped forward before I could strangle him. “Hey you,” Aden shouted, jabbing a pointed finger at Jormun, “show some respect you baboon, _Wanheda es la houman de Heda de la Kongeda! Ella es Kikheda que salvó la vida de Heda_.”

 

The other in the room gasped, but Jormun snorted. Since I was quite new at this Trigedasleng language thing, the only words I comprehended was Wanheda, houman, and Kikheda. Houman, I think means very good friend and Kikheda, I supposed is one of my new titles, the Commander of Life. But the way Aden was speaking was growingly strange, he used his arms a lot and I swore he smirked at me.

 

Aden continued to confidently declare, as much as his little annoying midget face can confidently do anything. “Ella tiene la cuchilla de Heda. Lo es un regalo para declarar la estado de casada de ellas. Si no me creias, ve la cuchilla.”

 

Jormun raised an eyebrow, “ _Es la verdad? Ella,_ ” he pointed at me, “ _es la esposa de Heda_?”

 

As I watched in total confusion, I felt the uncomfortable glazes at me. 

 

“Show them Heda’s knife, Clarke,” Aden said.

I plucked the dagger from my belt with both brows raised, I had no idea was happening. As Jormun beady eyes caught sight of the magnificent blade, he roared thunderously before slamming his fist into the arm of his seat, “ _Él está mientando. Heda no puede hacer un relación con esta mujer. Es imposible! Ella robo lo. Detenala_!”

 

The hairs on my neck were vertical, I held the knife tightly in my fist and I reached for Aden. All the words of the conversation flew over my head, but Jormun was obviously very angry, Aden’s guts are my to spill. 

 

The guards outside piled in, and they surrounded me. Yet, I managed to keep them at a slight distance with Lexa’s knife. 

 

“What is happening, Aden,” I said, this was not how things were supposed to turn out. He gave me an apologetic look.

 

“Jormun,” he said, “I will fight you for your position as the Commander of the Barricade.” 

 

My head jerked to his direction, “ What!” I yelled, “No! You can’t!” But my words fell on deaf ears and he approached the heavyset man with his sword drawn. “Aden, if you fight him…I will…” my face grew flustered, “ I will… disown you.”

 

There was nothing I could do to prevent the blurring flashes of metal that followed, I knew from experience how stupidly stubborn the Nightblood brood could be and I knew honor had something to do with it. Yet, Aden, stupid Aden was just a kid. I yelled for them to stop, but the surrounding crowd grew increasingly louder, drowning out all sound but the sharp clang of metal. Aden was defending mostly, since Jormun’s strikes were so powerful that one hit would lop him in half. With his thin sword, he rapidly deflected the heavy blows of his attacker. Sparks flew every time the two blades would collide. I winced at the high pitch twangs that reverberated through the room and a deep pit formed in the bottom of my stomach.

 

Aden couldn’t stand his ground, he was being pushed out to the outskirts of the circle and barraged with heavy blows. His knees buckled under the pressure and I could see his entire body vibrated from the force of the attacks. Jormun was so big, that compared to him, Aden was a bug. Desperately, he lunged forward to plant a strike of his own, aiming for Jormun’s thick calves. To a man who’s had decades more combat experience, Aden stood no chance. With his big hand, he snatched Aden’s neck and yanked him up. The shock of it made my boy drop his sword and grip at the huge hand that held him there. 

 

I could not bear to see anymore. I shoved past the guards with all the force I could muster and picked up Aden’s fallen blade. My heart was racing and I had never been more afraid in my life but the voice I spoke in showed none of it. “Fight me,” I said.

Jormun laughed heartily, he let go of Aden who dropped to the floor like a stone and coughed intensely. “You,” he laughed, “Fight me? Are the Skaikru not useless without their guns?”

 

I dug my foot into the ground, and said, “ Well you would be surprised.” 

 

“Sure I will indulge you,” and without a warning, he launched himself at me. His blade collided with mine and I felt my body tremble violently, rattling my teeth as if they weren't bolted to my jaw. I grunted and dived underneath him. My brain was on fire, it was screaming to stop, to live and it just screamed louder as the tip of Jormun blade glanced my back. I rolled to my feet and jumped at his unprotected side. Aden lost because he got tired out, absorbing this Goliath's blows took strength, strength that neither of us possessed. 

 

Rather, I had to bite him before he could bite me. Playing dirty was my game. Fortune had graced in the forest. I did not die, I got lucky and the ability to fight. With one arm, I thrust forward the blade, letting it just protrude through his trousers before I had to duck back. I was seeing red, and I started to hate this man with all my heart. Jormun took a couple steps back as if he could believe that I was actually putting up a sort of a fight. The crowd booed, whether is was scorn for me or disapproval for Jormun, I was too encased to care. Without missing a beat, I leaped for again. He reacted this time and brought his sword down to protect his side, but before I let my body fall onto his blade, I grounded my right foot into the dirt and propelled into it with all the power in my body. His smirk slowly turned to horror as my hips rotated and the tip of my sword lodged itself into his left leg. He furiously reverted his blade, aiming for my head, but I had already fallen to the balls of my feet and it missed the top of my hair by inches. 

 

Jormun roared as he tried to grab at me with his free hand, just as he had done with Aden. His thick fingers latched on to the front of my jacket, jerking me towards him. My entire body fell forward as my toes refused to dig into the ground. If he had me in arm's length, I would be dead. His strength was impossible to counter and within his grasp, I would suffer the same fate as Aden. So I did the only thing that popped into my adrenaline hyped mind, I jumped at him. His hand still gripped my jacket but I had rushed forward with my sword propped up and in collision with his forearm. As he realized, his face morphed into fear as he released my shirt like a hot potato and swung his sword to block me cutting off his arm. 

 

It hurt a lot. The length of my blade did not stop Jormun from nailing it an inch into my flesh. I felt my entire right side immediately swell up, and the force knocked me off balance. The ground seemed to sink and rise like quicksand, forcing me to stumble about. Jormun took the chance to kick my calves and trip me to the ground. After I finally found the strength to roll over, I was met with the tip of his sword, pointed three inches from my neck. 

 

“Still think Skaikru are useless without our guns,” I spat, glaring up at him through the edge of his sword.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't understand Spanish, there is always google translate and spanishdict.com. I really wanted to throw in an underlying joke in the words that were meant to fly over Clarke's heads. _Sorry to all those fluent speakers. Tell me if yall need a translation._


	12. Opposites do not attract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's shouting, yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos to show your appreciation

Just before I thought the blade would shove through my neck, it stopped. The tip rested gently on my windpipe before it was slowly withdrawn back into Jormun’s scabbard. 

“Humpf,” he grunted, “you can go.” He then turned away and returned to his seat. From my position, his back was wide and threatening, and his big muscles converged under his shirt, proving that he was tense. “You put up a good fight,” he said, “I have you let you, at least try, what you are planning to do.” His voice spat out the remaining words, and I knew that he was reluctant to do so. I begrudgingly picked myself off the ground; Aden coming over to help me up. We walked slowly out of the large tent, pass warriors who eyed us with respect and down the hill to Arcadia.

I made sure my golden blonde hair was visible from Arcadia as we slowly approached it. I wanted the guards upon the tower to know it was me, so at least they won’t shoot. My side didn’t feel to functional, so I gave a bit of my weight to Aden, resting my arm over his shoulder. He had his head down and refused to look me in the eye. The little shit was a lot more clingy and timid than usual. I chuckled, thinking perhaps that he learned his lesson after all.

The Arkers let me in, a large crowd of the remaining hundred and their respective parents approached me as we entered the gates. The others hung around the edges of the perimeter, glaring at our every movement. Some were touting guns in their arms, the safeties obviously switched on. The moment I walked through the gate, a wave of hostility crashed on me.

“Clarke, you’re back,” they said.

‘Thank you so much.”

“I still remember how you saved my kid.” 

In the crowd, I saw Abby. She was gesturing me to allow her and then briefly slid back into the crowd. I saw fleeting images of my close friends but they also quickly disappeared. Aden and I held hands as we moved at a snail’s pace through the crowd. We pushed and shoved toward Abby’s direction; the heat from above made me cautious and undetachable from Aden. His hand gripped tightly in mine and I found myself protecting him as we cut through people.

Once we got to the place where Abby waved from, both of us were very suddenly yanked behind a wall. The figure that greeted us had an annoying arrogant smirk plastered all about her equally annoying and arrogant face. Raven.

“How’s it going Princess,” she greeted before motioning for us to move, “we can’t really talk, gotta move.”

“Yeah.”

Raven walked like lightning, both of us were jogging to keep her pace. She looked really fit, and I look forward to seeing the other guys. Yet, something tells me that things have changed since the last time I was here. The pathways of the Ark were surprisingly barren, they felt colder and harsher than they originally were, as if I could feel the fear seep through the walls.

Aden had both his hands entangled in my shirt as we finally halted in front of a vaulted door. I could understand his uneasiness, it stood tall, bolted with metal and illuminated solely with a yellowing strip of LEDs. Raven smirked again, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding towards the door. Aden rushed forward, latching to handle and mustering all his might to turn it, a flawed course of action. Raven squinted at me before shoving the little guy aside and pressing a button on the door. It swung open abruptly, smashing against the metal of the wall. The sound wasn’t significantly loud but Aden slumped away, ash white, again latching on to me. 

Inside was my mother, Kane, Octavia, Monty, a couple members of the previous Council and along with some new faces. They all stood around a metal table, something requisited from the Med Bay, each ready for the person to fill the seat at the very front of the table. 

 

“The Arcadians need to cooperate with the Grounders if we ever are to stand a chance of surviving on Earth, “I shouted, slamming my fist onto the rickety metal table, “the people should be aware that we are completely at their mercy.” My hand uncurled and I forced my teeth from gritting together. Everything was at the Grounder’s mercy; my time at Polis had cemented that assumption in my head, and it has come to the point that Arcadia had to stop denying it. I was fuming, literal smoke erupted from my ears, I had never scorned a person like Pike in my life. 

Then, from a firm speaker across the room, “And how do you suppose we convince the people to do that?”

“What?” I was so engrossed in my own woe is me, that I failed to feel a shift in the atmosphere. This woman, who I barely recognize, is staring at me with utter indifference. I felt like a child throwing a tantrum and she was my mother who wondered if I were done yet. I’d assumed that nothing much had changed politically other than the unadaptable, self-preservation obsessed baboon that ran rampant, but that was not the case. She, this woman, carried such airs, that I doubted who really sat at the front of the table. 

“What are you going to do about our current situation,” she articulated, enunciating every word firmly and slowly. Her impassive expression cracked a little and the edge of her lip, turned upward. 

Abby gave me the luxury of leaning over and whispering in my ear, “Her name’s Reily, she’s from the Farm District.”

“Well,” I cleared my throat. “I expect we have to control Pike somehow.”  
She just smiled and folded her arms across herself, “Yes, I understand that much, But what are you,” she enunciated the pronoun, “going to do to resolve Grounder/Arker tensions.”

“Actually, I hope after some thorough explanation and interaction with proper Grounder authorities will…”

“Are you really assuming that the Arkers will take that?” she laughed. “Do you think that after all they’ve done, that we would just make peace with them? That easily?”

“I have seen first hand the impact of what a proper interaction can do, “I said through gritted teeth.

“Pike has offered the people total extermination of the Grounder Populus,” she gestured in the air, “you are going to have to be way more aggressive than that to move the popular vote. I don’t think it is possible for the whole of Arcadia to ever agree with you with your... current platform.”

“If I hadn’t made it clear,” my brow furrowed, “We are completely are the mercy of the Grounders.” I held up one finger, “One, one more mistake could mean we are wiped off the face of the Earth. They will crush us. Let it be very clear, it is impossible for us to win a battle against them.” I straightened my legs, “ I was recently in Polis, the Grounder Capital. They have a city with trade, with currency, with law,” I emphasized.

“Screw their laws,” Reily shouted, “they are barbarians, monsters. Why are you defending them! They’ve killed hundreds of the Farm district. You say you’ve witnessed firsthand of their good, well, I’ve witnessed first hand of their evil!”

"We have to make peace,” I pushed, “despite it all, because our lives are on the line! The Grounders are not all the same, the majority are completely different from the ones that attacked you! You are making assumptions about a group of people only based on the actions of a few!”

Abby and many of the others were pale from the fiery interaction between us. Figurative knives were spat from lips, back and forth the table like a warzone. They were tired of it, debating may be helpful but as experienced politicians, they knew they weren’t getting anywhere with the fighting. Abby put a hand on my shoulder and suddenly I was painfully aware of my pigeoned chest and heavy breathing. I was a bird with too many ruffled feathers. From that single realization, my body deflated and I tried cooly, to group any symbol of professionalism. I thought what happened during the night Lexa was shot, how I was so angry that I couldn’t think straight. 

“Let us take a break,” Abby said to the council, “we’ll reconvene in a half hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To every argument, the are many sides, whether they are valid is the debate.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's angry, plans something and then funny stuff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lots of time on my hands guys, I've already written like two chapters. I wish I had a life during the summer! Kudos, comment and bookmark.

"Clarke, "Abby said, lacing her arms around me, "You're finally back home."

The word, "home" twinged a little in my heart as I tried to hug her back, but I just couldn't lift my arms; my body was stone. We were in an empty corridor somewhere in the depths of the Ark, Abby had pulled me out during the break and I had let her because I didn't want to be in the same room as that Reily girl.  
I played with her hair as she embraced me, finally letting out an awkward, "Yeah," when she let go. I took a breath, the air was stale and I stared at the walls for a bit.

  
I don't think Abby really liked that fact that I was the primary figurehead of the Arcadians, I don't like it either. But after Aden was forced to stay back in the meeting room and it was just me and mom alone, the connection between us made me uncomfortable. I hadn't seen her up close like this for a long while, and it was like we were strangers. The fact that I was here during a time of crisis didn't really help to reduce the tension to our relationship.

She put her palm on my cheek and I could see her watery eyes, but my face wouldn't crack into emotion despite me physically willing it to.

"I just so happy you're okay," she whispered, immediately pulling away. I saw her trying to recompose herself, then talking as if nothing of significance happened, "So what happened there between you and Reily,".

"I just couldn't stand the fact the Arcadia seems so alright with Pike's plans, that girl from the Farm District seem perfectly fine with letting us die."  
Abby furrowed her brow, "No one in that room agrees with Pike, honey. We were the ones that arranged for you to sneak in under his nose. Everyone in there him wants him out of power."

"Then why was she attacking me?" I frowned, exasperated.

Abby just chuckled, "Well, they want him out of power, but many have different ideas of what to do afterword. I think Reily was just testing your mettle."

"Right," I muttered, shuffling my foot "that makes more sense, there's no way Pike supporters wouldn't shoot me on sight." My arms instinctively crossed over my chest, "What does he have me down for? Fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Well," Abby said jokingly, "He couldn't charge you with anything, I wouldn't let him."

I awkwardly shuffled once more, "How did you guys arrange for me to get in?"

"Octavia was actually with one of the Grounder patrols around the Camp," she explained, "She was actually going on break when you two," she nodded at Aden who sulked at the corner, "made a break for it in the tent. She radioed us at camp that you were back and we were able to set in a plan that we've made for weeks."

"So, the crowd outside were just fakes to get me in?"

"No, they are actually your supporters, we've arranged that hey be on alert in case you ever come back. Pike doesn't like you since you're the only other major political opposition he has in this camp. Knowing him, he's going to try everything he's got to hurt you."

My jaw clenched but I refuse to let the anger overrun me, "I'll make sure he doesn't ever touch anything  
close to power ever again."

 

Back in the room, Aden re-adhensived himself to me the moment I reentered.

"Did you think of something with your mom?" he asked, "you looked tense back in there,"

I gave his hand a squeeze and mused his hair, "Yeah, kid. I had a plan since I was in Polis. And oh, did you know that Octavia was in a patrol and that if had just stay for a bit more, she could have got us into Arcadia no problem?"

"Really?" he said, twiddling his thumbs.  
I grunted, "Yeah," before immediately giving him an epic nudgie that he would remember for the rest of his days.

We were all again reseated, Reily still sat opposite of me but her face dripped smudginess, as if completely satisfied with my initial outburst.  
Nevertheless, I set my hands in front of me and placed both feet firmly on the ground, "No matter on what we plan to do," I said with my eyes dominating Reily's glare,"It is more important to settle the things at hand... to dispose of Pike. Lucky for you, I have the perfect plan."

 

 

Raven and Monty greeted me at the Server room of the Ark. When I walked in the room, I was bombarded with louder cheers than I thought possible to come out of the mouths of two people. Then Aden stepped in and an immediate silence washed over, followed with Raven poking Monty's arm, whispering, "There told you, Clarke has a kid now."

  
Blood rushed to my cheeks and I took a large step to punch Raven in the arm, "Hey you, stop making it sound weird!" I said through gritted teeth.

  
"I am Clarke's child, " Aden nodded in agreeance, not at all catching what Raven was insinuating.

  
I turned around, this time to punched Aden in the arm, "No you are not, at least not in that way."

  
"But I am your child," he whined slightly, "Are you not taking care of me?"

  
"That still doesn't make you my kid," I screeched. "I am not married to your parent!"

  
"Um er," he looked liked he wanted to respond but then decided against it, his shoulders slumping, bringing his head down with it.

  
Raven took the time like she always does to act like a creep, leeching forward and evading my personal space. "Clarke, don't abandon your child," she lectured, comically pointing her finger at me. "Be a responsible mother and take care of your..."

  
"Shut up," My brow twitched and I refused to look at Raven's annoying mug any longer, shoving her way-to-close-face her aside.

  
She acted as if I mortally wounded her and swayed side to side, before dramatically collapsing on the floor "Hey not pushing cripples," she quipped, barely controlling the laughter in her voice.

  
"Raven, stop playing," Monty said before handing me a tablet. "These are the details of what we are doing, Rave and I have already secured all the speakers to activate at this time," he pointed to the numbers, '5:30 pm' on the tablet.

  
"Thanks, Monty, you're much more of a help than that idiot next to me."

  
"Well, actually Raven did most of the work, I just helped out."

  
Aden was helping Raven off the floor and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Raven pretending to swoon and putting her hands all over my boy.

  
"Well, thank you anyways, you're way better to interact with than her, "I said, before turning on my heel and trying to pry Raven off from a now beet red Aden.

  
Aden and I then visited Lincoln's quarters. Before I entered his room though, I remembered to firmly knock and wait outside in case he already had another more scandalous visiter with him. The knock followed with some more audible, 'oh shit' s and 'fuck' s from both a male and female voice.  
The door then cracked open about four inches and Lincoln and Octavia's face lined the vertical slit meant to reveal the room.

I let out a groan and covered my eyes, "I am literally standing out in the hallway, in danger of being noticed by Pike's men, but are you guys decent?"

"Yeah of course," Octavia nodded vehemently, "Come in. Just ah, mind the furniture."

Inside was a mess, it was as if all the items on the furniture were knocked over and fell to the floor. There were clothes on the ground, and Lincoln and Octavia were shamelessly still trying to recover them to put on. Octavia was clad in what I assumed to be Lincoln's shirt and rapidly trying to pull on some skin tight pants. On the other hand, Lincoln calmly pull on his guard jacket, nonchalantly putting his twelve pack abs on display. I lurched a little in my mouth and I could feel Aden response similarly.

"So," I decided to say after they were both dressed, "are you two familiar with the plan yet?"

  
"Yes," responded Lincoln, "We have received the radio message from Abby already,"

  
I handed the two of them the tablet that Monty had shown me and gave them a thorough explanation of what was supposed to happen. They both nodded, understanding their position in my grand scheme. At the end, Lincoln put his big hand on my shoulder and said, "I hope you luck on your battles," before we were abruptly kicked out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er, so I think I've made it clear that Clarke has a dark side when she gets angry but she's usally a muffin. Aden, I feel like is a child always trying to redeem himself. Raven's annoying because she's snarky and all knowing. Octavia and Lincoln are horndogs. These are my thoughts.


	14. Operation Pt1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the big day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a kudos, comment and subscribe!!

We executed the plan the very next day. I had checked and double checked all the components of the plan, thoroughly. Aden and I hand spent all of last night confirming with allies, and reporting on enemies, desperate to assure everything ran smoothly. Yet when dawn broke, none of it made a dent in my overwhelming anxiety. It still nawed at the pit of my stomach like a caged animal. The sun felt so scary, its brightness forcing me to walk out on a stage that I was not ready for.  
On the day of the Operation, Raven, Monty and Abby were camped in the Server Room, they were saddled with loads of equipment needed for manning the radio stations. Raven herself was seated in the midst of the technology I didn’t even know the name of. They would each be responsible for the communications of the entire team, with the exception of Raven, who said she who handle the technical jargon that came our way.  
Octavia and Lincoln were already situated and waiting for their que at their positions. I had personally made sure that they were armored with the finest Arcadia had to offer. Bullet proof vests, Kevlar pants, boots, kevlar everything. I had to assure myself with the extra protective measures. Not only were they the ones in the most danger, but the whole Operation depended on their success. My stomach dropped again, and I felt nauseous to the tips my toes.  
Then, there was the Assault team. Headed by the one and only, Reily, who despite my repeated protest, refused to take a back seat. It was a team of combat capable people, some loyal from the guard and others, experienced teens from the 100. Abby had made it a point to equip them with Benzodiazepine laced handkerchiefs and fast acting tranquilizing darts. When she brought it out to the council, Reily had scoffed at them, countering that their opponents' had no qualms on shooting on sight. It was risky, yes, but Abby, Kane and a majority of the Council had agreed that touting guns against our own people would be a very irrational idea. If the plan when smoothly, then the Assault team would have no issues disabling the tower guards. I had no problem with it, there were only two patrols and most guards would be pulled away after the start of the Operation.   
Finally, there was my Escort team, consisting of an overprotective Aden, Miller, Harper and others. None of us carried weapons but I still had Lexa's knife tucked inside my jacket pocket. I was waiting, crouching behind a wall, for one of the radio stations to declare the 'all ready'. The next couple minutes were dreadful and tense moments, with my heart nearly beating out of my chest. Finally, my radio finally coughed on and Abby's firm voice gave the all ready. I took in a deep breath, forcing my shaking finger to press the fluorescent button on the radio. The words caught in my throat, and I struggled to spit them out. ‘Say it damn it’, my mind screamed. I wanted to say it, but the weight on my shoulders was crushing and I felt like I couldn’t move. I saw Aden face me and then, I saw his blue eyes flicker and lower, recognizing the emotions on my face. He gently took the radio from my hand, pressed the button, and whispered, “go”, into the receptor.   
Raven's voice shook on, like… if this whole thing was no big deal. "The fire alarm should be on about... now,” she said. Loud sirens began wailing, nearly cracking open my eardrums. I fiddled with the mic on my collar while covering my ears with my other arm. From our position, the escort team witnessed wholesale chaos erupt from the Station exits. I was relieved, it worked! Fires were life and death on the Ark Station. I was the one who suggested we bet our lives on fire alarms, and it worked! I felt as if a concrete block lifted off my chest, before I realized it was just one piece of a building. I stretched my hand out for the radio, my neck was in the noose and I was too far to back off.  
Within minutes, the small field was completely packed with panicked people, accompanied by an even more panicked me. I pressed the button on the radio, "What is the situation with Octavia and Lincoln?"  
Monty buzzed in, "They are on the go, I have confirmation they already contacted the target."  
"Alright," I said and motioned my team to get ready, which was stupid, because everyone was already more tense like a wound up spring. I shuffled to a more active position, sitting on my knees before bringing the ratio closer to my ear.  
"O and Linc are at Corridor B1 with Pike and Co. behind their tails."  
"Kane and Reily had taken out the first guard post."  
"O and Linc are turning to Corridor B7, they are heading toward the armory as planned. Pike and Co. are beginning to shoot at them."  
My teeth grounded together and I was painfully aware that my nails were digging through the skin of my palm. I had counted five seconds in my head. Even though I was sedimentary, adrenaline was over saturating my veins as if I, myself was in Linc and O situation, the continuous narriating from the radios didn’t help either.  
Seconds later, Abby reported that the Assault team had disabled all of Pike's men covering the field. Quiet gunfire sounded like rain drops on a glass pane in the distance as I still sat with my jumping nerves behind the wall. I forced myself to take a deep breath, tightly closing my eyelids before opening them up to scout the dense crowd. With my heart beating out of my chest, I brought out my hand and motioned for us to move forward.   
“We’ve planned this,” I shakily reminded myself but my knees couldn’t help but give a sight tremble. The escort team flanked me all at sides, just as planned, and we made great pace moving through the crowd. Our target, the podium, was in the front of the field. My plan, as much as I had tried to play it up in front of the Council, was a glorified speech. Everyone had their doubts but I gave them a demonstration, I told them of my thoughts, how terrible Pike was handling things, past milestones of history that were similar to our current situation. Then I told them how I was going to expose Pike in front of all of his supporters. That, immediately turned some heads to my team. The mike that I was fiddling with, was connected to the intercom system within all of the Station, Raven had guaranteed me a whole ten minutes of uninterrupted time. There were countless evacuations points and I needed every Arcadian to be made aware of Pike’s intentions, I just pray that Octavia and Lincoln had everything under control. The radio finally clicked alive and I crammed it to my ears while we made way through the crowd.  
It was Raven’s voice, “Linc and O are behind the Armory doors with Pike and co., our guys just arrived for support.” She then paused, listening to the conversation on the other lines. “ Yo Princess, when do you want me to tap on their mikes, Pike’s saying some really nasty shit.”   
I smirked a little and just the teenist, tiniest bit of pressure lifted from my shoulders. “Great job to Linc and O, We’re almost there, stand ready for the cue.”  
We finally reached the podium and only I walked up the steps to the stage. There was no microphone, nothing on the empty wood stage. It was expected and I was prepared. I thumbed the mic button in my pocket. Everything went so fast that my brain didn’t fully process the hundreds of hostile faces in front of me. I think that was a good thing, I don’t think it could’of properly functioned.  
“Morning Arcadia,” I heard my voice boom. All the panicky civilians finally started to recognize my ugly mug on stage and within the frame of two seconds, a lot more eyes were focused on me. I stared into the crowd, glancing over each and every face. “I’m Clarke Griffin, a lot of you might recognize me for being Abby Griffin’s daughter, or the girl who killed her own boyfriend, or.” I paused, finally deciding to throw away everything I had scripted,. “the one who saved my friends, the rest of the 100 from the Mountain. I might not be proud of everything I’ve done, but I feel that I deserve to be heard because of it.” So far, no angry protests, I continued, “Despite all that Pike’s said, I don’t think that the solution to Peace is more war.”  
“Liar,” was shouted from the crowd, “I not gonna sit by while the Monsters murder us!”  
“Are they murdering us now? Have they attacked the camp once since Farm Station got here!” I demanded, pointing at the man who made that statement, my brows lowered, “Aren’t you the murderer?” my voice darkened. The crowd jumped in shock. “Isn’t murdering what Pike’s men been doing lately, going to villages with machine guns. Mowing down women and children, old and young. Hasn’t Pike killed two hundred people outside our walls, many of their bodies still lay unattended outside? If you want to talk about murder, we can talk about all the murderers,”I growled. “I don’t want to talk about that,” I said, “I want to talk about what I want to do. But first, let me share a bit of information…”


	15. Operation Pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Operation Pt1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a kudos or a comment

I tapped the mike on my collar and the speakers shakily turned on. The static cleared up after some moments later, replaced with something fundamentally brutal. It was Pike’s voice. 

 

_ “I’m gonna shoot you in the head! You damn monsters!’  _ Rapid gunshots erupted loudly from the systems and people visibly winced in the crowd.  _ “I’m going to make sure you’re sure you regret ever coming to my HOME. I’m going kill every, single, one of your friends and family. Oh, I’m going to make you regret being alive. You fucking monsters.” _ A barrage of guns went off, and Pike let out a barbaric scream. 

 

Then it was Lincoln, his voice was clearer since the mike was on his body, “ _ We don’t have weapons!”  _ he cried, I could literally feel the fear from the tiny recorder pinned on his shirt.  _ “ _

 

_ Rats deserved to be exterminated,”  _ was the seamless reply. The audio cracked and strained from the loud sound of bullets. A round whizzed close to the mike and we all heard the sickening punch of a bullet ripping through flesh. Lincoln, Lincoln was hit, he let out a contained hiss of pain and I could hear Octavia in the background screaming. 

 

_ “You and your ALL of your people deserved to die. ALL of you. I don’t fucking care what they do, I don’t care who they are. They ALL deserve to die. I’m fucking going to shoot all the men, women and children of your barbarian kind!!!” _

 

It was enough, this was enough. I couldn’t take it anymore and I gave two harsh two taps to my own mike. The audio quickly cut off as if Raven on the other line had the same idea. The crowd was shocked and the purpose was achieved, no one could speak a word. Pike’s supporters soured from self-justified righteous support of their leader to disgust, utter disgust. We stood in complete silence with our faces being to enough to communicate the mood of the crowd. Fear, disgust, moral conflict.

 

I cleared my throat and tried to act confident, trying to recover from everything I just heard. I knew Lincoln was probably fine, Raven did say reinforcements were there. “I know how to solve this, guys. I know how to solve without hurting those who deserve being hurt. I know how to make sure none of us would ever be hurt...

 

“But they hey do deserve to die.”

 

It was a woman. She had a gun, and it was pointed at me.

 

My mouth barely had enough time to open before the shot of a gun brought me back to Lincoln and Octavia. I knew this was dangerous, I knew everything laid on a few essential strings, the strings of chance. Despite it all, I had put all my cards on fate, that somehow, being exposed on a stage wouldn’t go wrong. I squeezed my eyes shut and braced for the impact. 

 

But, it never came.

 

I opened my eyes. 

 

The woman’s gun had fired into the sky, her neighbor had jerked her hand upward. The weapon was torn from her iron grip and she was wrestled to the group. 

 

“Continue,” the woman’s neighbor shouted, “Tell us what you’re going to do! 

 

I choked on my words, my hands were shaking behind my back, but I managed to swallow, “ In the early days of the Ark Station, none of the countries could work together. They constantly fought. But only did that unite, did they truly survive. I know how to dissolve the barricade. I know how to communicate with their Commander.”


	16. Talk and Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basic clarification of the Operation and Aden revealing a shocking truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos or comment

The more I thought about it, my plan was really beyond stupid. As I sat on my bed with Aden at my side, safely barricaded within the walls of my room, the more stupid it sounded in my head. Really? Send Lincoln and Octavia to lure Pike away the exits. Tell Raven to broadcast my little speech to the entire Station except from the Armory. Have Lincoln and Octavia expose Pike’s true intentions and then send the Assault team back to rescue them once they finished up with the field. It was so dumb; I couldn’t help but pull at my hair. The whole plan was dangerous, so many parts had the possibility of going wrong. Then I thought about what could of happened if things did go wrong. The people that I could of hurt, the people I could of lost. I didn’t even know how the crowd was going to respond to the information I gave them. I could be dead, the entire resistance movement could be dead. 

 

I flopped back into the hard mattress, my legs hanging  off the rim of the bed. My eyes lingered on the ceiling and my hands laid at my sides, no longer grappling nervously at something. This was my room. This was the place I grew up in. Yet this wasn’t home, home was Lexa’s bed and her arms wrapped around my waist. Thoughts flew in a panic within my head, like rabid birds swooping and hitting every pillar of sanity. My fingers started to weave themselves into the thin blankets underneath my body.

 

Rigid and unfeeling, cold and hard, those were the qualities that Lexa said were needed to lead. As I continue to struggle with the chemicals messing with my head, fearing, panicking, stressing out about everything, I wish she was here. I wish so hard she was here.

 

“You’re going to do fine, Clarke,”

 

I stopped glaring at the ceiling and turned my head slightly to the garish, young boy next to me. His comment was so random, so out of pace in the silence, like he could read my mind.

 

“How do you know?” I managed to spit out. “How do you know, I’m not falling apart right now?”

 

His little face twisted and he lowered his voice into a rough alto, “Well, first I think  you are amazing, and talented, and beautiful and awesome and,” he added with a wink,” brilliant.” “You are so kind and smart,” he continued and I felt a distinctive blush come to my face, “and good at drawing.”

 

“What and why in Becca’s name are you doing?” I demanded, physically burning up, the embarrassment creeping up my neck like lava. I can’t believe he tried to impersonate Lexa. Even more embarrassingly, I can’t believe it worked on me. 

 

“That’s what Heda says about you all the time,” he said, giving me a big, toothy grin. “And I believe in you because I also think you’re amazing, talented and beautiful…”

 

I clasped my ears in a frenzy and then covered my face with a pillow, “Ok, ok, ok, I get it,” my ears were red now too, “please stop now.” 

 

He snorted, “Ok, wow I can’t believe someone so great in leadership can so humble.” He threw his hands up at humble word. 

 

“You think I’m good at leadership?”

 

“Well yeah, you’re strong and firm about what you’re doing and you get things done.”

 

“But those things that I do aren’t good Aden. They’re very stupid and dangerous… They can get people hurt.”

 

Aden thought for a bit, holding his hand to his chin before opening his mouth, “The way I think of it is, no one could stand up to Pike before you came along. I mean, the whole resistance movement against Pike were sitting ducks until we came here. You were the one who even had a real plan.”

 

“I had a bad plan.”

 

“Whatever,” he waved me off, “it’s a plan nevertheless. You had a plan and you worked really hard at it. You called everyone up multiple times and stayed up all night to make it work. That’s the definition of leadership.”

 

“Well, thanks” I said, “ I still don’t think I’m cut out for this though, I’m stressed out all the time.”

 

“Are you kidding me? If you’re not cut out for this, what is it for me? You’re the literal Wanheda, the woman who killed the Mountain.”

 

“I was never proud of that Aden.”

 

“You’re like Heda, you're both strong and tough, so don’t ever think less of yourself. It’s great to have you two as moms,” he said as he played with the hem of his shirt. 

 

With my eyes closed and my head halfway underwater, I grunted a “ahuh” and relax into my bed. It took a couple seconds for the words to register before I literally seized and bolted upright. “You said what?”

 

“It’s all very technical, don’t worry about it. It’s just, you know, the  _ Natblidas  _ are the heirs of Heda and she’s the big mother of us all, so,” he played with his shirt some more, refusing to look at me, “that sorta, kinda, makes you my mother. Since you’re Heda’s  _ Houman,  _ wife and all” Aden bit his lip, “but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to be.” I saw him clench his fists by his side and his shoulders sink in that classic Aden way. 

 

It was quiet for a moment before I asked, “How did she marry me?”

 

He looked at my face with surprise, “You didn’t know? She never told you?”

 

“It’s the knife, isn’t it?” I said solemnly, I knew it, I knew something was wrong that day.

 

“Yeah,” he said.

 

“I’m happy to have you as my  _ technical  _ child,” I mussed his hair before pulling his cheeks for good measure, “Though, I’m going to yell my head off at Lexa at Polis, and you,” I poked his nose, “can’t stop me.” 

 

His face burst into a smile and he reached with his long, gangly arms to give me a hug. I hugged him back. After we let go, I told him there was no way one hell we were sleeping on the same bed and told him to go sleep on the floor. He groaned but I knew he was happy he didn’t have go to a different room. I know how scary it is to sleep in a foreign place for the first couple times.

  
  



	17. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at the title, damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to make the characters curse rarely, but the emotions *oh the emotions* are strong in this one. I have chapters lined up but I don’t like how they “feel” so I’m going through a revision loop. I don’t know how to write angst.

Abby gave me a weathered a slip before we entered the council room. It was a rectangular piece of paper that looked like it spent the better part of a life tucked in a pocket.

“One of your supporters,” she said. I flipped it over in my hand, it was written in rough English that the Grounders’ used and dirt encrusted one corner. 

“Jormun plans to attack Skaikru tomorrow .” It read.

I processed the information in my head and slid the piece of paper into my chest pocket. The impact of it hit my chest, hard like an orbiting space ship. It’s the little things that I notice first, the buzzing of the lights, a strand of hair in my face. Abby had her poker face on and I tried to copy her, we can’t let this slip out uncontrollably. This was crazy and insane, and unbelievable and fucking nuts and if Arkers knew about it, there was nothing any of us could do to stop Arcadians from shooting every grounder on sight. My fist clenched and I took a deep breath, there was no rest for the wicked.

” Anything else?”I exhaled, the edges of my face breaking slightly.

“No more,” she said, giving me sorry look, “ I just hope you’re prepared.”

Abby stepped in front of me to open the door and for a moment, the light cascaded from the windows looking like a doorway to heaven. But I was snapped out of it real quick because instead of trumpets and harpsichord, my ears soaked up aggressive shouting. The table looked like it took a fiery beating from all the fist pounding it took. Somehow, the sound didn’t even lower when we took our seats at the council table. All was chaos. They were inches away from throwing paperweights around.

“Settle down,” Abby exclaimed. “Clarke’s here, so we can begin.”

The room still slightly, all their aggression was directed at me now and it was making me squirm. They stared me down as I fauxly cleared my throat, taking a precious second to thump my chest before speaking, “Alright, who has an issue to present?”

Reily stood up first, her hair was matted she looked defeated. Nevertheless, I felt the intensity of the look she gave at the front of the table where I sat. “Yesterday’s mission was a success, the polls that came in this morning saw the popular opinion of Pike plummet. We have all the power to impeach him with a more popular candidate. The question is who.”

“Right,” I said, wrenching my hands underneath the table, “Who is the most valid candidate for Chancellor.”

The room erupted to people shouting names and slamming fists on the table again. I took an obvious job back. Some shouted their own names or the names of other people, continuing on to list the reasons why or why not.

“Shut up.” Things were too messed up for me to deal with this stupid bullshit. “Let Reily finish.” I guessed they were all afraid of my sudden rise because they took a step back. “Just,” I gritted,” Please do not speak unless denoted to.” 

The atmosphere mellowed afterword, nobody dared to give me an awry look again.

“For the position of Chancellor,” Reily started again, “I wanted to propose you.”

“Ok.”

“Um, really? Thats all you’re going to say?”

I turned my head to glance at everyone sitting at the table, “Does anyone else want to add to this topic?”

Some people said they wanted Kane for his experience, others supported Abby for her influence. People even wanted Reily on the stage since she was a Farm Station representative. I nodded along with each and every one of their statements. It didn’t matter who lead Arcadia, just if they had the sound of mind to make good decisions. I thought Abby was a good fit. As the discussions raged, it showed on my face that I was utterly uninterested with the matters at hand. If it wasn’t me being Chancellor, Kane, Reilly and Abby could combine into one person and they can all be Chancellor. What they were dealing with was in a different world. I, was more or less preoccupied with Jormun and the barricade’s plan of attack. That, was dangerous, something to be dealt with and quickly. This, this was political power play. 

We decided to put it to a public vote the very moment we closed session. There were too many divisions and there was no way it could be settled with simple discussion. So during the mid afternoon, as the sun was setting, some idiot thought it was smart to proclaim me the newest Chancellor of Arcadia. 

I spent the night yelling into a portable radio, walking and talking with Aden tailing me. Most of the conversations went like this, Me: “I don’t want to be Chancellor.” Them: “Alright then, we don’t want Pike to be Chancellor though.” Me: “ I don’t want Pike to be Chancellor either, why can’t it be Abby or Kane. Make them take the spot.” Them: “The people chose you and Pike came in second. So if you step down, it has to be him.” Me: “Well make it not him.” The talking usually stops after I start screaming over the line.

Aden asked me why I didn’t want to be Leader of the Skaikru, I told him to shut up because he wouldn’t understand. He gave me puppy dog eyes for a whole minutes before finally getting that I was serious and stopped talking. 

“I don’t want to be a Chancellor, Aden, because I'd have to govern Arcadia. I’d have to govern it and I wouldn’t be able to leave.”

“You wouldn’t be able to leave for Polis,” Aden realized.

“Yeah.”

I pulled the slip of paper out of my pocket, I going to have to tell them, this was insane. 

Originally, I had planned to have the next Chancellor break the news of Jormun’s crazy attack to the masses. So then, the pressure of the whole world wasn’t only on my shoulders. I was hoping to play second fiddle for just a little while. The Chancellor was supposed to hold Jormun as I return to Polis. Now, since I was Chancellor, they is no way I can ever go back. There wasn’t even time to send a messenger to go get Lexa. Hundreds would die before Aden comes back in 2 days. I would be the one who had to resolve this again. It was always me, I chewed my lip. Jormun was a stubborn man, I doubt he would listen to anyone but me. 

“Jormun is planning to invade us tomorrow.” I said bursting through the door. The radio was still in my hand but it had long stay quiet. “Ideas?”

None of them had a good thought in there, they were as clean as a slate. I had stormed out of that room is a hot rage. The Council had a whole two hours to come up with ideas, I had wasted a whole two hours on them. 

Aden put his hand on my shoulder, I shook him off. I didn’t feel like being touched just then.  
“Just stop,” I turned my back to him, “just stop it ok.”

I wanted him to stop wasn’t because I didn’t want him to comfort me, it was because I didn’t want him to know. Even before the meeting with the council started, I already had a plan. Like all my plans, it was stupid, and dangerous but at least this time, there was one person involved, me. I had hoped that the Council could come up with something so that I didn’t have to go through with it. But, as the hours grow nearer to the next day, I was more than willing to be a martyr for my people.

 

We walked in silence but I felt more like sprinting. I’ve wasted too much time. Give it two more minutes and I’ll be ready to snap. My hands had been firmly clenched for the last two hours and now punching a random stranger didn’t feel like a dimension away. 

“Aden,” I said, “ I want you to stay in our room for tonight ok? I need to go somewhere alone.”

“But why, why can’t I go with you. I go with you everywhere.”

Guilt. It bit at me, it chewed me up and spat me out. I felt terrible, like a villain betraying the world. His stupid pug face was so annoying innocent. I thought about last night. He was nice last night, that made me feel worse, like shit.

I made myself say it, I made myself say even though I didn’t want to. My teeth gridded together.

“Just stay in the room alright, I don’t need you messing it up for me.”

“But…”

“Stop it, I don’t want to hear it, ok. I don’t want to take care of you while I’m out there, saving my people.” I grunted. My hands were strangling themselves my back, if he just saw, he would know that I didn’t mean it. Even if the smallest part of me wished he would notice, he didn’t. His head dropped, his chin hitting his chest. He always made that pose when he was down, or sad or feeling useless. I felt useless. This was stupid. 

I forced myself to walk away, to leave Aden standing alone in front of my bedroom door. My legs literally dragged themselves on the floor.l until I reached the Arcadian front gate. The guards let me out when I told them to, they gave me sour looks the entire time. I didn’t care, it didn’t grind my gears anymore. I used to be mad at everything, now I just feel sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave a comment or a kudos


	18. From the sidelines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aden has some thoughts

Clarke left half an hour ago and like the ever loyal dog, I was sitting silently alone, where she told me to stay put. My hands played the hem of my shirt; I’ve been doing that a lot lately, things with my hands. I think it started after the night Heda was shot with the Mountain weapon. I mean, recently, I’ve been doing a lot of things I don’t usually do. Clarke had changed a lot about me; I didn't follow anyone like a stuck puppy.

Now, look at me. Putting Clarke on a pedestal the height of Polis Tower and going into a depression the moment she yells at me. My shoulders hunched over my knees, and my arms wrapped around my legs. Outlookers would think I was an armadillo. I was breathing in small, rapid bursts and there was certain, very painful tightness in my chest.  _ Pathetic _ . In my head, I chanted Titus’s teachings and the Commander’s lessons in her court.  _ Be strong, be cold.  _ My fists clenched and I rubbed my eyes, praying that maybe they’ll stay dry. The night Heda got shot. I was there and I couldn’t do anything. I felt utterly useless for the first time in my life, like the mud stuck to the bottom of a shoe. 

 

I bit my lip, feeling my nails dig little half-moons into my palms. Clarke’s not like that. Clarke wouldn’t think that about me. I know her. 

 

But then why, why did she say those things to me. When we talked that night in her room, I told her things that’ve never come out of my mouth. She knew her words would hit a sore chord within me. She let me trust her, made me feel not so helpless and then, she turned around and stabbed in the front. 

 

It took a moment for things to click. My jaw did that dropping thing and then I demanded where the hell she went.

 

I cursed at myself when I leapt to my feet, pulling on my jacket from the floor. Damn my self-wallowing and pity. Stupid, apathetic loser. Did it ever occur to me if I didn’t want to be useless, I’d have to do something for myself? Me now and me then were two different people, and current me has a disgusting taste in my mouth for the Aden almost crying because someone yelled at him. 

 

I was going to find Clarke and force her to tell me what the hell was on her mind. I’ve seen too many powerful people do dumb things when they think they’ve had it all figured out. It took two strides before my hand was at the door…

 

There was a knock.

 

“Can we come in?”

 

I didn’t say anything, but the door wasn’t locked and before I could react, the thing betrayed me. It was Lincoln and Octavia. 

 

“Oh, sorry there. I didn’t realize Clarke wasn't here.” Octavia smoothed her hair with her hand. “We just wanted to throw in our two cents about the situation with the Barricade.” 

 

“Clarke’s not here,”

 

“You know where she is?” Lincoln asked.

 

“No”, I said, “but I’m going to find out.” I could shove them right now.

 

“I bet she’s fine, You’ll probably find her back soon. You ok bud? You look angry.”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I growled, staring at Lincoln’s big, doe face. “ Did Clarke tell anyone where she was going?”

 

“No, but I bet it’s no big deal. She’s probably fine.”

 

“Lincoln. When Clarke randomly disappears, it's never a good thing for anyone. Remember how she was gone right before the bomb at TonDC.”

 

“She won’t do something like that, O. It’s Clarke. Chancellor Clarke,  _ Heda  _ of the Skaikru.”

 

“Yeah in a million years. Think about it Linc, tomorrow Jormun’s going to attack. We’ve only got a makeshift night guard since Pike’s men decided to bail and Raven’s has just half of the electric fences rigged up. We are so screwed, Linc, and instead of being here, our damn Chancellor’s suddenly gone.”

 

“You’re right,” I jabbed my finger at her, “Clarke yelled at me to stop following her earlier, she never yells at me! Completely out of character! ”

 

Octavia raised her eyebrow, “Little man, there are so many things wrong with that sentence,”

 

I ignored her, “Clarke’s almost annoyingly infatuated with saving her people as Heda is with her candle collection. She is willing to do anything to save you Skai people.” 

 

“I bet it’s something stupid.”

 

“Heda has a candle collection?” Lincoln froze in confusion, “Heda?”

 

I ignored him, “I know Clarke’s doing something, something she doesn’t want us to know.”

 

“Yeah, I’m getting a very bad vibe here. Princess isn’t coming out clean if this goes through,” she said pulling at Lincoln to move.

 

“We’ve gotta go get her.”I said.

  
  
  


“Yeah, we saw her leave for the Big tent” the guard said, tightening his grip around his weapon. 

 

As I left, I felt he spat at my heels and mumble some words under his breath. I stopped, imagined his windpipe under my knee and then entertained the idea of sticking his head in a waste barrel. Sadly, I was forced to shove the thought aside when there were more important things at hand. Instead I kept a straight face and hurried along with the couple.

 

Lincoln, Octavia and I ran to the Barricade. The patrol took one look at Octavia with Lincoln and completely ignored us when we hung outside the Barricade Tent. Looks like Octavia’s done more than just sleep with my people.

 

I was just about to lift the tent flap and charge in when I heard Clarke say, “Jus Drein, Jus Draum, Jormun. My life for the life of the two hundred warriors my people killed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, subscribe and kudos. Do it, it's free.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick chapter, Aden’s perspective again. Our little boy’s growing up with a big part.

Aden  
“What makes you worth the lives of two hundred warriors?” His words were taut, as if they were pushed through thin lips and meant to be an insult. “Your experience with my people might be different,” he said, “but not all of us are walk-overs.”

I had to stick my ear closer to the tent so that my face was plastered on the fabric of the entrance. Their voices were becoming distanced and in my position, I heard light footsteps all over the tent. I thought they were too far away for me to make out the noise. There was not a recognizable word coming from inside. 

Until Clarke’s raspy voice make an abrupt interruption when she screamed, “What does Wanheda mean to you!” She paused for a moment and I was chilled to my bones. Tingles ran up my arm after the image of her fate developed in my head . I clutched the tent material in my hand, wishing my ears would merge with it because I needed to hear her voice. I know where this is headed, with this path of dialogue and I hate that I can’t stop it.

“It doesn’t mean two hundred live.” Jormun spat.

There was shuffling of feet in the tent and the sharp crack of wood smashing against wood. Clarke threw a chair at Jormun. Darn it. It was her infamous temper.

“I’ve taken more than two hundred, you imbecile,” Clarke growled, her voice tethered on the edge of something feral, “three hundred in the first three weeks on the ground, two hundred at the Mountain. The lives I’ve taken could fill a pit a mile deep.”

There was a tense pause before Clarke started speaking again. This time her voice was a quiet thunder, a threatening, dangerous thing, like a beast trapped in a cage. “You’re lucky, your battle isn’t over yet.”

“Then why, why not fight us?”

“Lives aren’t cheap. I don’t want more blood on my hands.” 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your conscience, Wanheda.” 

The room became so silent, a pin could drop and miles around would hear it. My own erratic breathing was the only thing that pounded in my head.

“Maybe if you could stop pretending revenge is justice, we could stop hundreds more bodies falling into our arms “she said.

“Your people need to pay.”

“My people need to understand their position with the population on the ground. I’m offering my life to Kongeda.”

Clarke gave Jormun a minute for her proposal to sink in, but I could hear her rapid foot tapping from where I stood. 

“Fair,” Jormun murmured, playing with the word in his hands, “Jus Drein, Jus Draum. You think that your loss is fair.”

“Yes.” she breathed.

“Your loss will be a great wound to your people?”

“Guaranteed,” Clarke said, “I was just declared the official leader of Skaikru. Cut me and you cut all my people.”

Within the tent, Jormun let out a deep heave, his sigh rumbled through the entire structure, capturing my mood perfectly. “They were lucky to have you, Wanheda.”

I’ve heard enough, the muscles of my heart squeezed tightly as I dragged my ear away from the noise. I’ve gotta go get Heda. Clarke was bull headed and stubborn. No amount of convincing would make her budge from her plan. She will her carry stupid plot to fruition without any consideration about what would happen to her. 

So when a tethered horse appeared in my sight, I didn’t delay riding it into the fading sunset. My mind was only filled the the thought of preventing Clarke from sealing her fate that I didn’t notice that Octavia and Lincoln were no where to be seen.


	20. The Day of the Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst Angst Angst, light at the end of the tunnel? Clarke gives her life to exchange for the life of the 200 warriors killed by Pikes men. Octavia and Lincoln are still now were to Ben found.

The two escorts flanking me didn’t shove like I expected them to. They gave me a berth; a foot and a half away from my shoulders and no one dared touch me. The sun hadn't yet fully risen and the moisture from the night made the sky, pale and grey. A slight breeze blew through my hair, a breath on my neck. It was peaceful, inviting even, as if walking to one’s death carried any sort of dignity.

A part of me thought it was nice my executioners has the basics of respect and the other hated them for it. Maybe it was because thinking they were monsters made it sit better in my conscience. I schooled my face into stone and then I looked at the pole in the middle of the camp, before my heart collapsed inward and I was forced to looked away. 

Found myself looking at my people, the same people I swore with my life I was going to protect. I saw them were rallying at the fence, children climbing up to see what all the ruckus was about. I smiled at their carefree faces, smudged with grease since they just came from mechanics. I wonder if they knew, if they understood what was happening. In my head, I imagined their twisted faces, caught between fear and anger, pain and relief. I imagine them unable to look away because they are unable to stop it.

As we neared the wooden pole, expressions soured as they realized what was about to happen. It wasn’t that long ago a similar kid was strung up on a pole. The last time they witnessed something like this, the kid had ended up dead. My insides torn at that. Every molecule of my being told me to run away, but I only watched as it approached. The marred surface of the wood was saturated black with blood and deep groves illustrated the cut of a blade. It told me to turn around and get the hell out before I would never be able to move again. I imagined myself being very dead; my very mutilated body being stretchered out, buried somewhere in the forest. I imagined my tombstone, The One Who Asked Too Much. I heard my friends crying softly and my mother rocking herself to sleep at night. Yet, I refused to live by instincts, I am not an animal. It was coming despite if I like it or not and I didn’t appreciate it the thought of going out a coward. I willed my teeth to grit, so that I could stare death in the face with a little bit of courage.

I savored the morning dew, looking to the sky with my neck outstretched and a deep breath my lungs. At one point, I tried to convince myself that death was not so bad. After all, so many of the people I know were victim to it, how was I any different. Nights have never been easy since the Mountain and hostilities plagued my every thought. I yearned for no stress, I wasn’t cut out to be a leader, nevermind the Chancellor. ‘This is better,” I thought, and the smallest part of me knew it was true. The fear of being cut did not scare me. The fear of dying, I saw too often. The only thing that terrified me was leaving those I loved behind. I hated the idea of losing Mom and Kane, of leaving behind Raven, Bellamy, even and Murphy. Guilt ate at me and every fiber of my being was on fire. Because, after the line of the faces of my friends was Aden and Lexa.

Soon, the pole was behind my back and the warriors bowed their heads at me solemnly. The woman to my left grasped my hand, squeezing it as if apologizing. They both had slack jaws and mellow expressions and the realization came that they didn’t want to do this. But I gave them a tight-lipped smile and they slowly looped my arms behind the pole. It took a moment for them to get ready but as their hands went to their waist, I knew everything was set in stone, They drew their knives from their scabbards and cut me.

It wasn’t a surprise, I knew it was coming; but that didn’t stop me from releasing the most blood curdling of screams as the blades opened skin and flesh. A stench of iron arose to the air as blood began dripping down my arm. My heart was beating against my rib cage, pounding on the bones like the skin of a drum. Adrenaline made me dizzy, and panic poked at me from the edges. I bit my lip, and tightened even muscle in my body. I started struggling in my restraints.

The Arcadians watched in horror at what they saw. Some gripped the fence chainlinks and shook it, shouting something too far to be heard. My name was being yelled from down the hill; loud, desperate pleads to let me go. I gave them a forced smile, the edges of my face felt numb, but I want to show them, everything is ok. Warriors from the Barricade started to line up before me, knives, drawn. A lot of them were square-shouldered, and grim-faced. I felt the wrath of their dead friends and families, those killed by Arcadians in their very looks. I welcomed it, willed them to release their anger on me if it meant not my people. In the corners, were grounders who had their blades reluctantly drawn and their arms glued to the sides. I thought at first that perhaps they didn’t have any skin in the game. But, after the third and fourth cut, I saw them grimace and cover their eyes before running ofrog.. 

 

I screamed until my throat was hoarse and the ground was saturated with blood. It hurt to breath, to see, to stand up straight; I was wobbling in my binds. Light Headed and drained, the pain gripped me in this long claws, squeezing and crushing me until I saw stars. In a flobbing motion of my head, my neck snapped forward and my chin collided with my collarbone. I saw, up close, the red-stained fibers of my shirt. That was the only thing I could see.

Someone stabbed through my arm. I felt the knife pierce my skin, gride against bone and then exit through the other end. The dud of it hitting the wood behind me made me seize. My whole body started shaking, it was going into shock.

I can’t remember how many cuts it was, I lost count after fifteen. My screams became progressively quieter with each cut and the wounds bled lighter and lighter. With every cut the squeamish butchering of meat grew fainter in my ears. Death stared me in the face, its chilling fingers brushed my cheek, telling me to go with him. I gritted my teeth and screamed through its hollow skull to leave, correlating with the knife that penetrated through my leg. Then, I closed my eyes, unable to stop my body from shaking intensely, they were tremors that raked through, seizing my muscles as they went. 

 

I screamed again, futilely fighting against the rope to the point my wrists were rubbed raw. From afar, the Arkers stared with intense dread, unable to rip their eyes off the graphic scene in front of them; of their newly appointed leader being torn to shreds. My friends were crying. Raven, witnessing something she should have already seen with Finn. Abby was still being held back by Kane, still fighting his grip, throwing fists, bawling for her child. 

Everyone has so invested the scene being played out before them that they didn’t notice the   
thundering hooves approaching from the forest. Only minutes later, did people turn suspiciously toward the rhythmic gallop of horses.   
Bursting out of the brush, was Lexa, charging in on her white stallion and Aden closely behind her. A squadron of the Polis cavalry followed into the clearing seconds later. The sudden and immediate presence of twenty men and horses instilled shock in every man within the area. Those within the line flew sideways to avoid being trampled. As she neared three feet from where I slumped, Lexa quickly dismounted by pulling her entire body to one side of her saddle. Her feet hit the ground awkwardly and with two strives and a swift blow, the rope that bound me to the post fell to the ground. Without the support, my knees buckled, threatening to fall face first into the dirt. She swooped me from the ground and carried me in her arms. Her face was blurry but I’ve seen her too much in my dreams to mistake it. The long nose, carved cheeks and the unbelievably striking eyes. This was the angel who was taking me to heaven. 

My arm moved to touch her cheek, but it flopped back to my side. I wondered how I was seeing this. “I must already dead,” As blood flowed out my bo, I fought to keep my burning eyelids open. I would defy all of physics to make this moment last just a little bit longer. If she was the last image I was to see, then I wanted to get an eyeful. Before I let the darkness pull me under, I felt her hold me closer to her chest and walk faster toward the gates of Arcadia.


	21. Patch up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surgery, a bit ghastly so fair warning. But I don't think it's worst than the first chapter. It's told from Lexa's perceptive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the long time no update, but it's no longer summer and I literally can not find free time. So that's the reason when I haven't updated in more than a month 😋, classes and lots and lots stuff to do. But then I thought about it, and I was like, I don't want to be one of those fics that end on a goddamn cliffhanger. I'm not enough of an ass and I feel for readers. I started writing this really early on but bc I need to edit and revise, it took me this long.
> 
> I would reread ch 20 since it has been a long time and I do have a lot of small references in this ch.

He’s going to pay. Those four words played a continuous loop in my head; a never-ending, deafening crescendo. Clarke laid out on a metal table, swarmed by blurred, indistinguishable figures. They wore blue paper gowns and fabric masks with white rubber gloves. The same gloves that stole Clarke from me just moments ago.

They wouldn’t let me go where Clarke was, until I threatened I would have their heads on the floor. Then they stood aside in terror.

We were in a glass paneled, steel room and the bulbs on the ceiling cast light below. I was out of place like a wolf in a sheep’s herd. But I didn’t care, the fact that half of these people wanted to kill me hadn't even occurred. My mind belonged only to Clarke.

I counted her breaths. I watched her chest rise and fall. Her strained face, pale and pained. Her sweat matted hair pasted on her forehead. Every look, every glance overwhelmed me with emotion, like stabs with a hot poker. One moment, tears threatened to fall and seconds later the room turned a fiery red and the instinct to kill was pulling my reigns.

I had a knife in my hand, a different one that I was accustomed to, and the irregularity of it bit into my palm. It was different because Clarke had mine, I had given it to her.

The blue figures had cut off her clothes, slicing the rags away with thin metal sticks. They pulled open the torn fabric, revealing skin that did not look like skin. It was puckered, pulled back from the open cuts, like it was trying to pull itself back together, but the distance was too great. There were so many interlacing gashes, each oozing blood.

My hand clenched the weapon in my hand, the stench of death hitting my nose hard.

"He's going to pay."

My knuckles were white.

"He's Going to Pay."

I watched the figures hang bags of blood as others descended on Clarke with tweezers and thread. Abby, worked the fastest. Her fingers moved with effective purpose.

But she let out a cry when she realized that her needle could not work fast enough. That's when the room started to smelled like burnt flesh. The smoke made my eyes water. They were burning her wounds shut because there were too many to stitch up.

The room seemed to still, the realization rearing its ugly head while the blue figures pranced around like demons. They chanted strange terms on repeat, like “cauterizer, polypropylene, and aminomethylbenzoic". Words, I didn’t even know existed. Items were exchanged rapidly with four people working on Clarke at a time. 

They were racing against the clock, I understood that much from my limited medical knowledge. I only knew of the way people died from those wounds. On the battleground, the life faded quickly from their eyes and it wasn't long until the person you once knew was gone. Exsanguination was fast, and ugly and cruel and painful.

I tried to remember the minutes it was since I got to Clarke and how long she was bleeding before that. Frantically trying to calculate her chances in my head. The room was chaos and the chaos was clarifying.

 

Abby cut into Clarke’s arm, widening the wound enough for her to poke around in it with her tools. That was wrong. The hairs on my neck stood at attention and a cold chill traveled through my spine.

Abby nearly found a knife in her head if it were not for a blue figure shoving a red ball into my open hand.

Her face was covered by a mask but I realized my deathly glare had the same terrible effect on any living thing.

“It’s a stress ball,” she whimpered, taking two steps back after getting a good look at my weapon.  
“Squeeze it," she dared to take another glance at me, "Abby’s just fixing up the punctured artery in her arm.”

It flexed the red rubber ball in my hand, I felt my fingers dig into the flesh, my nails ripping little half-moon shaped holes in its guts, and then it deflating in my hand.

“Um, it’s not supposed to do that.” Her eyes closed and her eyebrows lowered in a wince. She was terrified, good. “Abby’s um… Clarke’s Basilic Artery, the big vein in arm… it got severed by a completely penetrating stab wound.”

The look on my face showed my angry lack of understanding and she shivered, clutching her arm in an awkward self hug, “She's got stabbed clean through in the arm and she's bleeding a whole lot. Abby’s cutting in so she can access and patch the artery."

My jaw wired shut, tossing the ball on the ground and looking back on Clarke. The girl shuffled away.

 

I kept thinking about the man who did this to Clarke. The words growing louder still, He’s going to pay. Jormun is going to die for this. 

My hand involuntary gripped the hilt of my dagger and I suddenly found the tip of the blade buried in the glass behind me. A spiderweb of glass cracks marred my background.

 

Everyone in the room spared a second to look at my good work before hastily returning to their charge. They knew, if Clarke died, they wouldn’t live much to see after it. The Commander of the Twelve Clans would lay waste to this place.

...

Clarke’s body went through a number of phases. Her body was ghastly pale and she was convulsing when she first arrived. Hours later, the floor was slick with her blood; disposed blood bags thrown half heartedly over the floor. Clarke’s skin had the texture of an hours dead corpse. 

Yet she was breathing,

Her breath was the only constant throughout the surgery.

On the table, there were few areas where her skin wasn’t marred. Her arms had nine gashes in total, one fully penetrating stab wound. Her legs had four and her torso carried thirteen. 

Twenty-seven in total.

She looked like a rag doll held together only by the metal stitching lining her entire body. She was a corpse who escaped from death. My breathing hitched but I steeled myself. My knife was still in my hand and I held it tight to my side. 

The blue figures transferred her broken body onto a metal cart and wheeled her out of the room. I followed two steps behind her.

 

Clarke was put into a discreet hospital room in the middle of the hall. They called it the ICU and then told me I’d better wait outside. They couldn't manhandle me out, so I was staying by her side.

Clarke was connected to a machine, a needle was stuck into her better arm and tubes were up her nose. She also had a mask that seemed to help with her breathing and bags of clear fluid hanged by her bedside.

There was a slight pain in my stomach, the adrenaline of the situation had numbed it until now. It bit at me, like a hungry dog roused from sleep.

My shirt was black, a big wet stain saturating the material on my abdomen. I didnt pull it up to see what was underneath. I ignored it, pushed what I saw to the corner of my mind because all I could think about was Clarke. 

Also about killing Jormun.

…

I don't remember falling asleep, but eyes opened and I was on a cot propped up against a wall. My arm was physical latched to railing on Clarke's bed and I uncurled it tentatively in the dimmed light. 

I turned to my side and met Clarke's featureless face. Luminated by the lights of the beeping tech all around, she looked beautiful even now. I’d wished I saw more of her because I was afraid of what's going to happen next. 

She opened my heart and now its cracking wide open with every look. Something I haven't felt since the day Costia’s head sat on my bed. But it was a hundred times worse, a deep pain. Heavier than any battle wound. It stung like a hundred strikes of lightning and I was drenched in water

I realized feeling wasn't going to help and I put the emotions back into the dusty box.

My fingers found hers, gently, consumingly, intertwining.

Stone, I will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kudos, comment and subscribe so you know when I next post


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damage Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it is not the strength of men that take me down, but the monsters in the hearts of my closest people. Yet, let them see my teeth before I go.

The corridor was dim and the metallic smell of it burned my nose, like the Skaikru's beka forsaken ship. At the end of it, there was light.  I moved toward it like a moth drawn to a light bulb, my feet acting in their own volition. The hall seemed to stretch on forever; the distance was immeasurable. I was going nowhere and everywhere at once, and as I trudged on, the walls on four sides slid slowly inward to crush me within its four faces. 

I walked until my legs were leaden and I could walk no more. Then I fell to the floor and started crawling. Soon enough, my body was pressed on all sides, trapped in my own efforts to move forward.  I’d thought of abandoning it, to turn back where the walls were wider and freer.  So I pushed against my left and right, trying to use my hands to push myself back to where I came.

Instead, the light sensed my reluctance and let out a figure with golden locks and striking blue eyes, smocked in a white tunic. Just like iron drawn to a magnet, my limbs, mind, and soul were attracted to her. Immediately, I rush forward, somehow pushing away the sense of futileness of a never-ending hallway. I pushed and kicked and crawled, digging my bloodied nails into the cold floor to drag myself forward if only to get closer to her.  

Then a shadow appeared, a thin man sporting a knife in his hand. He was slimy and snakelike, a monster that infected the girl and her light. As he plunged the weapon into her guts, I felt helpless to save her nor tear my eyes from the terrible scene. A scream wrenched from my chest as I gave a couple more desperate shuffles to the now dimming light. I had no idea why I was emotional but the stranger girl held a deep familiarity as I’ve known her for decades.

***

I woke up in cold sweat, sitting up in my cot and feeling the dreamy-fog fade away. All around were small flickering lights from the machinery that kept Clarke alive. I could see the dim outline of her face with her golden hair cradling her cheeks as she slept. 

When I finally got situated in darkness, I felt around until I found the railing of Clarke's bed. I kissed her and pulled the blanket up higher until they reached her cheeks. Mornings are cold I know that for a fact. Then I slipped out with only a creak of the door.

  
My foot crushed the top of a lily flower. The floor was matted with floral offerings and I bent over to pick one up, but like lightning, a hammer knocked all the air out of me. My head rocked back and forth as if an earthquake hit to turn everything upside down. I nearly doubled over in pain, but I crashed into a wall and hundreds of needles stabbed my spine. Almost like a dead bug against a window, my body slid down the wall and crumpled onto the floor. I was there methodically pumping air in and out of my body until the stars finally removed themselves from my vision. 

Blood rushed in my ears as my fingers lifted the edge of my shirt, the wound didn't look too bad. The stitches still pinched closed some of the skin but they weren’t holding up much else. Most of the twine was stuck to the underside of the shirt. I tried to pick it off, but the whole string came loose. Now, the stitches closed none of the cut.

 I've dealt with worse, and the wound was closing in its own dilapidated way.

It took a whole five minutes for me to pick myself off the floor, and another five to school my face into stone.

The Skaikru had littered guards through the entire main corridor. Young, useless and half asleep, they couldn't protect a bug, much less my Clarke. As I passed, I made sure to give each a firm kick in the shin. My own men stood alert at the front entrance. The sole doorway that led to the infirmary that every person had to enter or exit.

Unlike any of the Skaikru, these men were dependable.

"Heda," the Captain of my Guard said. " Aden suggested you visit the Acting Chancellor. She's in there." The Captain pointed down the med bay.

When I pushed past the bleached curtains, only thin Abby remained in the medical bay. She was still dressed in the bloodied blue smocks of yesterday with both feet planted firmly on the ground and her elbows on her knees. In her hand was a small white bottle, which rattled to every shake of her hand. She was holding herself and rocking back and forth on her chair. We were two steps apart when I noticed her distant glassy eyes and quivering lips. She was so far away from an alright human that I could scarcely distinguish her from the first time we met.

"Chancellor Griffin?"

Her head jolted as if shocked by lightning and as she turned toward me, a flicker of recognition came to her.  
   
“Commander”.

I gave her a curt nod, careful to gauge the situation. “Lexa kom Skaikru”, I said before pulling up my shirt. “Can you fix this?”

***

“Clarke do this?” she said, picking out the remaining twine with forceps.

“She performed surgery on me in Polis.”

“You’re lucky to be alive,”  Abby said as she turned to fetch something from the cabinet behind her. “I only hope Clarke shares the same luck.”

She poured the contents of a pungent vial on the wound and my entire body tensed up from pain and surprise. I heard her scoff but as sweat dribbled from my brow and rolled into my eyes, I could hardly be bothered to confront her. I swore my flesh was burning but she couldn’t even afford me breath before the needle punctured and stitched in quick succession.

We stopped finally and I allowed my head to snap back and gasp for air. The black dots were back and it felt as if a tornado-ravaged my head. I tried to ask why the pain was so intense, but my tongue-tied-knots only grunted out sounds.

“The wound is swollen, infected and increasingly deep. I have half a mind to chain you to a cot and hang a bag of fluids into you. But you don't seem to care about necrosis,” she muttered as an adhesive bandage slapped on my skin. My teeth instinctually clenched to stunt the long hiss coming from my throat yet she continued, “But seeing how both you are my daughter are suicidal, no chain can keep you from doing you stupid idealistic goals. Bring your arms to your head.”  
Abby wrapped my abdomen with fabric for so-called “additional support” and sealed it off with tape. Without warning she pinched me and I let out a strangled yelp. "Just checking that you still feel pain," she smirked, "since apparently shock does not physically happen to you."  
I was nearly out of the room before she said "Hold up," bunching her blue smocks in her hand and dropping them to the floor. "I'm coming with you."

***

  
Abby rushed to introduce me, "This is…".

"Lexa Kom Triku, Commander of the Coalition", said, gazing across the room. There was no more to say, they all knew what happened. My tight-lipped smile or my inability to keep my hands to myself alone was indicative of their troubles to come. I let them stumble around, pulling on collars and stumbling on words, turning the entire atmosphere from shell-shock silence to anxiety.

A man from my far right corner began, "I am not sure what your relationship with Clarke is, but our enemies should not be allowed…" but was promptly cut off by a young woman's pointed whisper, "Shut up Carl, we could literally be dead."

Few more figures tried nervous peacocking but each was hushed down by their more logical counterparts. Finally, as the room dispersed of its original energy and the people relaxed more into their chairs, I said, "Whose idea was it."

"She wouldn't have to do all that if the threat outside wasn't so imminent." It was the same young woman who hushed Carl. "We got a tip that Jormun was going to attack us."

"I asked, 'Whose idea was its!'" my palm crashed against the metal table and the vibration rattled my teeth. " I didn't ask why, who?"

I felt Abby pull at my arm, "Clarke made the decision to go without telling us. She was elected Chancellor the night before and then she…" Abby's voice broke, "we couldn't come up with any good ideas and she just left at night."

"It was because of Pike," said the young woman, "our sources came in today that Pike's group were secretly provoking the barricade. We didn't know about it before." She sounded strangely apologetic.

Kane said, "Pike's took Octavia and Lincoln. Aden said they were with him when they were about to leave but he couldn’t find them outside of the compound. We roughed up Pike’s men and he says Pike’s got them locked up somewhere. " Then he stuck a hand into his coat and brought out a folded piece of paper, " I've got this."

He slid the paper across the table and as I quietly unfolded it, realizing who wrote the perfect loopy script.

It was Clarke's.

_I have a feeling Pike’s behind this. Jormun doesn’t seem like the type to start action unprovoked. Pike’s dangerous because he’s got nothing to lose and that makes him insane. He’d rather burn everything to shit he doesn't have his way, even sacrifice his own people and start unwinnable wars. The barricade grounders are going to attack tomorrow and us Arkers are just going to lose so much. I’m unwilling to let that happen, so I will take things within my own hands. I absolutely hate this Chancellor position but that doesn't mean I don't love my people. While I Polis, I learned a few things that I think they’ll come in handy. I don’t expect to come back so please have someone take the little brat Aden home. Make sure to feed and clothe him, I have to return him in one piece._

 

_C.Griffin_


	23. Bloody Noses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief, but I this was karma that ppl wanted

I stormed out of the room for like thirty steps before I had to put a hand on a wall. Abby did a good job patching me up, but the hole in my chest still threatened to spill my insides to the outside. Two breaths later, I was up and walking again with the same raging fire inside my eyes. 

“Heda!”

I suddenly jerked my head and stumbled in shock as a boy rushed to put himself under my arm. 

“Woah,” Aden said. 

I nodded and put some weight on his shoulder to prop myself back up. Then I stepped back and took a good look at him; it was only four days, but he’s grown a lifetime. “Aden,” I said continuing to walk out of the building. 

He followed next to me in easy strides but I noticed his darting glances, no doubt preparing to catch me. We met an intersection and Aden’s wide eyes were so glued on to me that I had to yank him away from a corner. He kicked it, letting the metal vibrate before grabbing my arm in his iron grip, “Where are you going Heda?”

“Let go Aden.”

“Tell me where you’re going.”

I tried to remove his hand but I was weakened and I refused to hurt him. Aden wasn’t letting me leave from this spot, and the determined look on his face said something like this happened before. 

“Clarke wouldn’t tell me either,” he said, “and now she can’t leave her bed.

I took a deep breath and brought myself to rub his back, “Young one, it’s alright. I’m just going to kill Jormun.”

***

“Can I please beat him up? I want to, and you obviously aren’t in any condition to fight.” 

“Do not underestimate the ability of your Commander, I’m still strong enough to take down a bear.”

We reached the top of the barricade and I gave each of the passing guards a withering glare. Even without my black paint, I could tear the confidence of these traitors to threads. No doubt they had seen my knife in Clarke’s hands, so they should know that attacking her meant attacking me.

Someone spat at my feet. I turned and saw Aden’s fist smash the offender’s face in. His knuckles were streaked with blood as the man fell to the ground. Seconds later, he returned to my side as if nothing happened only saying that he was a threat. I gave him a pat on the back.

We walked briskly to where Jormun was held and I felt the anger pool in my head. I let my vision bleed red, my veins pop, my jaw tighten and let myself feel all the rage and fury that I stored away. When I saw his smug face, tied and helpless to the chair, I knew he was my enemy. My men backed away as I lunged on him, both my fists pounding relentlessly to his face. “Interrogation,” they said, but I thought it was a better idea to see his teeth spread out in the dirt. His chair fell over, and I commanded my men to prop him up again. 

“You traitorous fool,” I spluttered, my abdomen hurt, but I sunk my knuckles deep into his stomach, “How dare you cut my  _ houmon.”  _ Jormun’s eyes seemingly popped out of his battered face when I delivered a punch to the chest and his chair toppled over again. Then as my last act, I walked around sol I could grind my heel into his mouth. I was winded and out of breath and some bile was rising from my stomach. Aden, sensing my troubles, rushed to hold me up before I fell again. 

“Can it be my turn, Heda?” he said, after setting me down. I flicked my hand toward the traitor and tried to bring the words to my lips but I felt like hurling the contents of my stomach. I was going to take a break. Aden told my men to get me a chair and some water while Jormun was laughing but the blood from his nose was running into his mouth. 


End file.
